MONSIEUR  D'OR 


BY  THE    SAME    AUTHOR 

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MONSIEUR  D'OR 


A  DRAMATIC  FANTASY 


BY 

JOHN   LOUIS  HANEY 


PHILADELPHIA 

THE  EGERTON  PRESS 

1910 


This  edition  is  limited  to  two  hundred  and  fifty  copies 
printed  from  type  and  numbered. 


No. 


Copyright,  1910 
By  JOHN  Louis  HANEY 


All  rights,  including  presentation  and  translation,  are  reserved. 
Application  concerning  public  performances  should  be  made  to 
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PRESS  OF 

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TO 

Hg  ftente 


Gold!  Gold!  Gold!  Gold! 

Bright  and  yellow,  hard  and  cold, 

Molten,  graven,  hammered,  and  rolled ; 

Heavy  to  get,  and  light  to  hold ; 

Hoarded,  bartered,  bought,  and  sold, 

Stolen,  borrowed,  squandered,  doled; 

Spurned  by  the  young,  but  hugged  by  the  old 

To  the  very  verge  of  the  churchyard  mould ; 

Price  of  many  a  crime  untold; 

Gold!  Gold!  Gold!  Gold! 

Good  or  bad  a  thousand  fold ! 

— Thomas  Hood 


THE  CHARACTERS 
The  Prolog 

ROBERT  DORR 

SIDNEY  HASTINGS 

JACK  NORGATE 

BILLY  FANSHAWE 

PERCY  MIDDLETON 

HAROLD  WESTBROOK 

Mrs.  SARA  KEENE 

ELEANOR  RICHMOND,  her  niece 

MARIAN  WINTHROP 

MARGARET  THURBER 

ROSE  LOWELL 

GERTRUDE  PASTON 

Scene  I 

MONSIEUR  D'OR 

RAOUL  LEHMANN 

FREDERIC  LEHMANN,  his  brother 

M.  BERTINE,  their  secretary 

M.  ALBERT 

M.  LORRAINE 

ADRIENNE  COURTEAUX 

CELESTE  BERGERE 

M.  FREMIET 

Scene  II 

MONSIEUR  D'OR 
ADOLPHE  LEMAIRE 
JEAN  MOREAU 
HENRI  VAUX 

HELENE  VAUX,  his  daughter 
Mme.  CYPRIENNE  DACIER 
Mme.  LUCETTE  CLARY 
BAPTISTE,  a  servant 

7 


8  Monsieur  D'Or 

Scene  III 

MONSIEUR  D'OR 

SIR  MORTIMER  MUIRHEAD 

Mr.  GILBERT,  his  secretary 

BARON  GRAEFFLINGEN 

Herr  LOBEN,  his  secretary 

MARQUIS  PALLOT 

COUNT  ANDRIEV 

CLAIRE  LASALLE,  a  stenographer 

Scene  IV 

MONSIEUR  D'OR 

Dr.  MIRSKY 

RAMANAND,  an  Oriental 

CYRIL,  a  boy 

EDITH  PACKARD,  a  nurse 

Epilog 

ROBERT  DORR 
Mr.  MATHEWS 
ELEANOR  RICHMOND 
Mr.  HANSON,  her  secretary 

The  forty  characters  may  be  distributed  among  thirteen  play 
ers.     See  note  on  page  10, 


THE  PROLOG 

A  terrace  adjoining  the  Dorr  Villa  at  Lenox. 

SCENE  I 
The  office  of  Lehmann  Freres,  St.  Gallen. 

SCENE  II 
The  music  room  of  the  Chateau  D'Or,  near  Versailles. 

SCENE  III 
A  private  parlor  in  the  Hotel  Royal,  Interlaken. 

SCENE  IV 
A  chamber  in  a  Balkan  palace. 

THE  EPILOG 

A  parlor  in  the  Hotel  Orient,  Port  Said. 

Fifteen  years  elapse  between  the  Prolog  and  the  Epilog. 


NOTE 

The  forty  characters  may  be  distributed  among  thirteen  players 
as  follows: 


Prol. 

Sc.  I 

Sc.  II 

Sc.  Ill 

Sc.  IV 

Epil. 

DORR 

D'OR 

D'OR 

D'OR 

D'OR 

DORR 

WESTBROOK 

R.  LEHMANN 

LEMAIRE 

MUIRHEAD 

RAMANAND 

HASTINGS 

F.  LEHMANN 

MOREAU 

GILBERT 

MlRSKY 

HANSON 

FANSHAWK 

BERTINE 

LOBEN 

MATHEWS 

NORGATE 

ALBERT 

BAPTISTS 

PALLOT 

MlDDLETON 

FREMIET 

ANDRIEV 

LORRAINE 

VAUX 

GRAEFFLINGEN 

MRS.  KEENE 

ELEANOR 

ADRIENNE 

HELENS 

CLAIRE 

EDITH 

ELEANOR 

MARIAN 

CELESTE 

MARGARET 

CYPRIENNE 

GERTRUDE 

LUCETTE 

ROSE 

CYRIL 

10 


MONSIEUR  D'OR 
THE  PROLOG 

[A  handsome  terrace  adjoining  the  ball  room  of  the 
Dorr  Villa.  Wide  marble  steps  in  the  rear  lead  to  a 
higher  tesselated  walk  with  marble  balustrades.  As  it  is 
night  there  is  only  a  dim  vista  of  the  beautiful  gardens 
beyond.  On  the  right  there  is  a  similar  approach  by 
marble  steps  to  the  higher  level.  The  ball  room  is 
reached  by  steps  on  the  left.  Its  glass  doors  and  deep 
windows  are  draped  with  exquisite  lace  curtains.  Palms 
and  other  exotic  plants  are  placed  appropriately  about  the 
terrace;  large,  gaudy  Japanese  lanterns  are  strung  over 
head  at  various  points.  At  each  side  of  the  terrace  there 
is,  in  front  of  a  bank  of  potted  plants,  a  large  marble  bench 
provided  with  silk  cushions.  The  orchestra  in  the  ball 
room  is  playing  a  delightful  Viennese  waltz  as  the  curtain 
rises.  During  the  earlier  part  of  the  scene  recurrent  noise 
of  laughter  and  chatter  is  heard  from  the  dancers  and  their 
shadows  are  reflected  on  the  curtains  of  the  room.  As 
the  various  couples  emerge  from  the  ball  room  or  enter 
from  the  rear  they  engage  in  mutual  conversation  as  they 
promenade  without  regard  for  the  others.  The  charac 
ters  all  suggest  superabundant  wealth  and  a  marked  air 
of  flippancy  in  the  consciousness  of  their  social  pre 
eminence.  A  few  moments  after  the  rising  of  the  curtain 
SIDNEY  HASTINGS  and  MARIAN  WINTHROP  enter  from 
the  ball  room.] 

n 


12  Monsieur  D'Or  PRO- 

MARIAN.  So  the  court  granted  her  the  custody  of  the 
children  ? 

SIDNEY.  And  he  is  forbidden  to  marry  again  during 
her  life  time. 

MARIAN.     She  gets  alimony,  of  course? 

SIDNEY.     Fifty  thousand  a  year. 

MARIAN.  Poor  Mabel!  She'll  spend  that  in  three 
months.  I  really  believe  the  dear  girl  will  have  to  make 
up  with  him  or  find  some  one  else  who  is  willing  to  take 
her  with  the  youngsters.  There's  three  of  them,  you 
know,  Sid — and  large  families  are  not  fashionable  now. 
She'll  never  manage  to  scrape  along  on  fifty  thousand. 
Why,  he  used  to  give  her  that  in  jewels  every  year! 

SIDNEY.  I  believe  you're  right,  Marian.  It  seems  a 
bit  hard,  doesn't  it? 

MARIAN.  .Mabel  would  have  done  better  if  she  had 
gone  to  Reno.  They're  specialists  out  there,  you  know — 
they  would  have  given  her  a  square  deal.  [They  pass  up 
the  steps  at  the  right  and  return  slowly  by  the  upper  walk 
to  the  ball  room.  Meanwhile  BILLY  FANSHAWE  and 
MARGARET  THURBER  enter  direct  from  the  ball  room.'] 

BILLY.  Yes,  the  whole  story  is  in  the  New  York  papers 
this  evening.  Shot  himself  through  the  mouth  and  didn't 
live  a  minute.  I  felt  sorry  for  the  poor  devil !  Did  you 
know  him? 

MARGARET.  I  knew  his  wife — she  was  Susie  Caxton 
— one  of  the  Amherst  Caxtons.  Lucky  there's  no  chil 
dren.  Why  did  he  do  it,  Billy? 

BILLY.  I  suppose  he  couldn't  stand  the  pace  his  par 
ticular  Amherst  Caxton  was  setting  for  him.  He  was 
only  a  bank  clerk,  you  know,  and  trying  to  keep  up  with 
people  who  spent  as  much  in  a  week  as  he  earned  in  a  year. 


LOG  Monsieur  D'Or  13 

MARGARET.  I  thought  he  had  an  important  position 
at  the  bank. 

BILLY.  My  dear  Margaret,  how  innocent  you  are! 
His  position  was  important  enough,  but  they  didn't  pay 
him  more  than  they  had  to.  He  tried  the  stock-market 
to  help  him  out  and  before  he  knew  it  he  was  juggling 
the  deposit  slips  like  a  professional  crook.  The  warrant 
was  out  for  his  arrest  and  he  knew  it.  That's  why  he 
turned  the  gun  upon  himself. 

MARGARET.  Poor  little  Susie!  She  gave  up  Charlie 
Decker,  who  is  worth  at  least  ten  millions,  to  marry  that 
man.  I  suppose  we've  seen  the  last  of  her.  [During 
the  latter  part  of  the  conversation  PERCY  MIDDLETON  and 
ROSE  LOWELL  have  entered  from  the  ball  room  and  have 
walked  across  the  back  of  the  stage,  so  that  they  now  pass 
BILLY  and  MARGARET  at  the  right  and  proceed  along  the 
front  while  the  other  two  sit  on  the  bench  at  the  right 
side  and  conversed] 

ROSE.  You  shouldn't  associate  with  that  woman, 
Percy — she's  a  notorious  character. 

PERCY.  She's  not  so  bad.  You  girls  are  simply  jeal 
ous.  Besides,  there's  always  a  lot  of  reporters  and  john 
nies  hanging  around  her  dressing-room.  There's  no 
chance  to  get  really  intimate.  She  seems  to  think  a  lot 
of  me,  though — you  ought  to  hear  her  call  me  '  mon  cher 
Pairsee ' — she's  not  strong  on  English,  you  know. 

ROSE.     I  don't  know. 

PERCY.  Well,  that's  why  I'm  telling  you.  The  other 
night  I  said  to  her,  '  Natalie,  your  tongue  can't  speak 
English,  but  your  eyes  can  speak  every  language  there  is 
in  the  world.'  [BiLLY  and  MARGARET  rise  from  the 
bench  and  return  to  the  ball  room  by  the  upper  walk.] 


14  Monsieur  D'Or  PRO- 

ROSE.  That  was  rather  neatly  put,  Percy. 
PERCY.  [Flattered.]  Wasn't  it?  The  reporters  wanted 
to  write  it  up  for  the  papers,  but  I  called  them  off. 
Natalie  doesn't  like  notoriety.  She's  not  such  a  bad  one, 
Rose,  when  you  get  to  know  her.  Of  course,  she  likes 
a  bird  and  a  bottle  after  the  show  and  she  gets  a  bit  lively 
at  times,  but  she  doesn't  lose  her  self-control.  She's  a 
thoroughbred.  She's  not  like  that  Margaret  Thurber 
we  passed  just  now.  At  the  Decker  dance  last  week  that 
girl  just  stowed  away  champagne  till  she  fell  off  her 
chair.  Now  Natalie  would  know  better  than  that ;  she's — 
ROSE.  See  here,  I  don't  want  to  hear  any  more  about 
that  vulgar  chorus  girl — 

PERCY.  Oh!  you're  just  jealous — like  the  rest  of 
them.  Maybe  Natalie  wouldn't  get  a  fit  if  she  saw  me 
out  here  in  the  dark  with  you.  I  believe  she'd  scratch 
your  eyes  out.  She's  a  spunky  little  filly — she's  a  real 
thoroughbred.  You've  got  to  treat  her  right.  [As  they 
pass  off  right  to  the  garden,  JACK  NORGATE  and  GER 
TRUDE  PASTON  stroll  along  the  rear  terrace  from  the  left 
and  come  down  by  the  central  steps.] 

GERTRUDE.  There's  Rose  Lowell  with  that  silly 
Percy  Middleton.  I  don't  see  how  she  can  tolerate  the 
fellow. 

JACK.  That's  no  enigma.  He's  worth  three  or  four 
millions,  whereas  the  Lowells  are  not  rich. 

GERTRUDE.  It's  cruel  of  you,  dear,  to  say  that.  Rose 
isn't  the  sort  of  girl  to  marry  for  money. 

JACK.  Why,  Gertie,  she  must  marry  for  money, 
whether  it's  cruel  or  not  to  say  so.  I'm  sorry  there's 
nothing  more  promising  than  Percy  on  her  matrimonial 


LOG  Monsieur  D'Or  15 

horizon.  Shall  we  sit  down  a  while?  [They  take  seats 
on  the  bench  at  the  rightJ] 

GERTRUDE.  He's  a  disgusting  creature,  Jack.  I  wish 
the  Dorrs  wouldn't  invite  him  to  their  affairs. 

JACK.  Have  you  heard  of  his  escapade  with  Mrs. 
Vansant  ? 

GERTRUDE.  Ah!  that  impudent  Vansant  woman! 
What  has  she  been  doing  to  Percy? 

JACK.  They  gave  her  charge  of  a  booth  at  the  charity 
bazaar  and  when  trade  grew  slack  she  announced  that  she 
would  auction  off  a  dozen  kisses  among  the  men.  Just 
then  Percy  came  along  and  bid  fifty  dollars  for  the  entire 
dozen.  That  silenced  the  rest  and  she  had  to  accept 
Percy's  bid.  He  promptly  paid  the  money,  took  one  kiss, 
and  notified  her  that  he  reserved  the  rest  for  future 
delivery. 

GERTRUDE.     What  did  Mrs.  Vansant  say  to  that? 

JACK.  Oh!  she  was  game!  She  told  Percy  that  she 
was  ready  whenever  he  was.  I  presume  he  will  collect 
those  kisses  one  at  a  time  whenever  he  can  make  himself 
sufficiently  conspicuous  in  doing  it. 

GERTRUDE.   How  disgusting !  Buying  and  selling  kisses ! 

JACK.  You're  right,  dearest!  Kisses  were  not  meant 
to  be  sold.  [He  looks  around  towards  the  ball  room  to 
make  sure  that  they  are  alone,  then  kisses  her  passion 
ately.  Meanwhile  PERCY  and  ROSE  have  re-entered  from 
the  right  just  in  time  for  the  tender  scene.  It  is  too  late 
to  retreat,  so  they  tiptoe  awkwardly  and  hurriedly  across 
the  back  of  the  terrace  to  the  ball  room.'] 

GERTRUDE.  [Freeing  herself.]  How  imprudent,  Jack. 
Somebody  might  have  seen  us. 


1 6  Monsieur  D'Or  PRO- 

JACK.  Now  don't  scold  me,  Gertie.  I  made  sure 
that  we  were  alone;  besides,  I  don't  often  get  a  chance — 

GERTRUDE.  [Curtly.']  Won't  you  take  me  back  to 
the  ball  room?  [They  rise  and  walk  towards  the  left.'] 

JACK.  You're  not  angry,  I  hope?  We  were  talking 
of  kisses,  dear,  and  I  simply  couldn't  help  it. 

GERTRUDE.  We  were  talking  of  Percy  Middleton's 
buying  the  kisses  of  that  odious  grass-widow. 

JACK.  I'll  admit  that  I  did  wrong,  and  I'm  very,  very 
sorry.  Does  that  satisfy  you?  [After  a  pause.]  Now 
let's  kiss  and  make  up. 

GERTRUDE.  [Smiling.']  Another  kiss!  Jack,  you're 
incorrigible.  [She  kisses  him  tenderly.]  You  dear  boy! 
Will  it  always  be  like  this? 

JACK.  [Taking  her  in  his  arms.']  Always — forever 
— and  so  on  for  eternity.  We  shall  be  all  in  all  to  each 
other  and  the  rest  of  the  world  will  be  as  nothing  to  us. 
Just  you  and  I — we  two  alone — 

GERTRUDE.  Dear  Jack !  I  am  so  happy !  [  They  enter 
the  ball  room.  From  the  rear  HAROLD  WESTBROOK  and 
ELEANOR  RICHMOND  come  slowly  down  the  central 
steps;  her  demeanor  is  serious,  his  is  somewhat  depressed. 
They  seat  themselves  on  the  bench  at  the  left  side] 

ELEANOR.     How  soon  do  you  leave? 

HAROLD.  In  a  few  days.  The  ranch  is  a  large  one 
and  I'm  needed  out  there.  I  had  no  intention  of  asking 
you  so  soon,  Eleanor — I'm  afraid  fortune  has  been  against 
me,  but  it  was  my  last  chance  to  see  you  alone — I  had  to 
speak ! 

ELEANOR.  [With  sympathy]  I  am  heartily  sorry  it 
cannot  be  otherwise,  but  our  decisions  in  the  real  crises  of 
life  seem  often  not  to  rest  with  ourselves. 


LOG  Monsieur  D'Or  17 

HAROLD.  Have  you  no  hope  to  offer  me?  No  chance 
that  some  day  you  may  be  willing  to  join  me  in  the  West, 
to  work  out  our  destinies  together  in  the  great  world 
beyond  the  plains? 

ELEANOR.  No,  I  feel  sure  it  can  never  be — but  I 
hope  we  shall  remain  good  friends.  I  want  to  hear  from 
you,  Harold,  and  I  shall  pray  for  your  happiness  in  your 
new  home.  I  shall  always  remember  that  you  have  paid 
me  the  sincerest  tribute  that  a  true  man  can  offer  a 
woman.  You  have  put  a  consecrated  seal  upon  our 
friendship.  No  matter  what  our  lot  may  be  in  the  days 
to  come,  we  must  never  forget  this  night. 

HAROLD.  Heaven  knows,  I  shall  never  forget  it. 
There  is  consolation  in  the  thought  that  you  are  not  going 
entirely  out  of  my  life.  Your  kindness  has  brought  a 
soothing  calm  over  my  great  grief.  I  have  no  right  to 
ask  if  there  is  another  to  whom  you  have  given  your  heart, 
but  Heaven  has  indeed  blessed  that  man. 

ELEANOR.  Heaven  has  blessed  every  man  and  every 
woman  who  has  known  true  love.  If  our  human  frailty 
is  such  that  we  can  never  comprehend  the  full  measure 
of  that  blessing,  we  should  at  least  be  thankful  for  what 
ever  glimpse  of  the  divine  vision  is  granted  us. 

HAROLD.  You  know  best,  Eleanor — your  soul  speaks 
with  a  clearer  insight  than  mine.  I  shall  abide  by  your 
decision — and  I  shall  worship  you  till  the  end. 

ELEANOR.  Don't  say  that,  Harold — you  will  meet 
some  one  else — 

HAROLD.  [Softly,  but  with  conviction.]  No,  there 
will  never  be  any  one  else.  [They  sit  in  silence  for  a  few 
moments.  The  music  stops.  HAROLD  takes  her  hand  and 


1 8  Monsieur  D'Or  PRO 

kisses  it  reverently.  They  rise  and  walk  silently  into  the 
ball  room.  BILLY  FANSHAWE,  JACK  NORGATE  and 
SIDNEY  HASTINGS  stroll  in  leisurely  at  the  centre  from 
the  terrace  behind  the  ball  room.'] 

JACK.  [Looking  after  them.]  Harold  Westbrook  has 
been  very  attentive  to  Miss  Richmond  all  evening. 

BILLY.  He's  wasting  his  time  in  that  campaign.  I'll 
back  Bobbie  Dorr  for  any  amount  to  win  her  against  the 
field.  [SiDNEY  looks  after  the  retreating  figures  and  says 
nothing.]  What  do  you  think  of  it,  Sid? 

SIDNEY.  Miss  Richmond  is  altogether  too  fine  a  girl 
for  Bobbie  Dorr — that's  my  thought.  [He  offers  a  cig 
arette  to  JACK,  who  accepts,  then  to  BILLY.]  Smoke, 
Billy? 

BILLY.  No  thanks!  I  came  out  for  some  fresh  air. 
Besides,  smoking  spoils  my  appetite.  I'm  going  to  make 
another  raid  on  the  collation  pretty  soon.  It's  excellent 
stuff.  I've  had  a  couple  of  lobster  cutlets,  some  sweet 
breads  and  two  of  the  nicest  soft  crabs  I  ever  ate.  The 
Dorrs  certainly  know  how  to  do  things. 

SIDNEY.  [Bitterly.']  Who  wouldn't  know  how  to  do 
things  with  the  income  of  forty-odd  millions  at  one's 
disposal  ? 

BILLY.  Forty-odd  millions!  [Whistles.']  Forty-odd! 
Why,  I'd  be  satisfied  with  the  odd!  [Explaining.']  It 
might  be  seven  or  nine,  you  know.  [In  a  lower  voice.] 
I  say,  is  that  correct?  Is  it  as  much  as  that? 

JACK.  I  don't  believe  that  old  man  Dorr  gathered  so 
much  out  of  his  Nevada  mines.  Of  course,  he  piled  up 
a  lot  of  money,  but — 

SIDNEY.     I  grant  you,  there  were  no  forty  millions  in 


LOG  Monsieur  D'Or  19 

his  silver  mines,  but  you  are  evidently  not  aware  of  his 
other  interests  that  paid  him  enormously  though  his  name 
was  never  associated  with  them.  You  may  remember 
that  no  inventory  was  filed  by  the  executors — but  Simp 
son,  who  was  chief  counsel  for  the  estate,  told  me  a  few 
things. 

BILLY.     [Curiously.]     What  did  he  say,  Sid ? 

SIDNEY.  He  mentioned  substantial  shareholdings  in 
the  Kimberley  diamond  fields,  in  the  Swiss  lace  and  em 
broidery  industries,  in  breakfast  foods,  railroads,  water- 
power  companies,  automobile  factories,  tobacco,  oil,  sugar. 
[Savagely.]  I  declare  that  when  Simpson  got  through 
with  his  catalogue  of  Dorr's  interests  I  felt  convinced  that 
there  was  hardly  a  human  creature  in  civilization  who 
didn't  pay  tribute  in  some  form  to  that  old  octopus. 

JACK.  [Looking  reflectively  at  his  cigarette.]  And 
even  the  tobacco  we  are  smoking !  Rather  lucky  we  know 
the  Dorrs,  eh?  We  can  get  back  some  of  our  tribute 
when  we  gather  here  as  their  guests. 

BILLY.  Bobbie  Dorr  and  his  aunt  are  certainly  mak 
ing  the  income  on  the  forty-odd  millions  circulate  with 
startling  vivacity.  I'm  willing  to  help  them.  Won't 
you  boys  come  in  and  get  another  bite  of  something  to  eat  ? 

JACK.     No,  thanks. 

SIDNEY.     We'll  finish  our  cigarettes  first. 

BILLY.  Pity  you  fellows  smoke  so  much — it  spoils 
your  appetite.  Well,  I'm  off  for  another  lobster  cutlet 
and  a  sweetbread  or  two — [He  goes  toward  left.]  and  I 
shall  certainly  have  another  of  those  delicious  soft  crabs. 
[Exit  left.] 

SIDNEY.     I  envy  a  man  who  can  enjoy  material  exist- 


20  Monsieur  D'Or  PRO- 

ence  as  Billy  does.  Why,  he's  a  personified  stomach.  I 
believe  he'd  sell  his  soul  for  a  salad ! 

JACK.  \L,aughing^\  Not  much!  Billy  would  make 
a  better  deal  than  that.  He  would  demand  at  least  a 
well-selected  dinner  with  appropriate  wines — then  he 
might  feel  satisfied  that  he  had  made  a  real  bargain. 

SIDNEY.  He's  a  sterling  good  fellow  just  the  same — 
I'm  glad  to  number  him  among  my  friends.  I  need  a 
cheerful  spirit  like  Billy  about  me  occasionally — I  am  apt 
to  grow  bitter  when  I  let  my  thoughts  dwell  on  such  men 
as  Bobbie  Dorr. 

JACK.  I  don't  see  why  you  should  feel  that  way  about 
Bobbie.  Of  course,  he's  a  child  of  fortune.  With  his 
good  looks,  his  wealth,  and  his  fair  allotment  of  brains 
he  is  bound  to  play  a  conspicuous  part  in  our  social  life. 

SIDNEY.  You  know,  Jack,  I'm  fond  of  growling  at 
times  and  just  now  I'm  not  above  criticizing  a  man  who 
is  virtually  my  host.  There's  something  I  don't  like  about 
Bobbie  Dorr.  I  don't  envy  him  his  great  wealth  nor  his 
social  triumphs,  but  that  insufferable  air  of  presumption 
I  cannot  tolerate.  What  was  his  grandfather  when  he 
started  for  the  West  half  a  century  ago? 

JACK.     Nobody  in  particular,  I  suppose. 

SIDNEY.  Josiah  Dorr  was  a  strong,  keen-witted  Yankee 
with  no  capital  except  his  good  health  and  his  persistent 
optimism.  He  knocked  about  for  a  good  many  years 
before  he  made  that  lucky  strike  in  Nevada. 

JACK.  And  then  he  married  and  lived  unhappily  ever 
after. 

SIDNEY.  Not  at  all !  Dorr  married  while  he  was  still 
poor  and  with  his  usual  luck  chose  a  wife  who  was  just 


LOG  Monsieur  D'Or  21 

the  right  sort  for  him — a  woman  of  no  pretensions,  but 
of  sound  common  sense ;  and  their  married  life  was  happy 
enough  until  the  children  grew  up. 

JACK.     Bobbie's  father  and  his  aunt  Martha? 

SIDNEY.  Exactly.  The  lamented  Josiah,  Jr.,  and 
[Pointing  toward  the  ball  room.]  our  charming  hostess. 
Simpson  told  me  that  young  Josiah  was  for  many  years  a 
thorn  in  the  flesh  of  his  parents.  He  seemed  to  progress 
from  one  escapade  to  another  till  he  crowned  his  list  of 
indiscretions  by  marrying  a  third-rate  actress  whose  pretty 
face  was  her  only  recommendation  for  public  attention. 

JACK.  I  didn't  know  that  Bobbie's  mother  was  an 
actress. 

SIDNEY.  Neither  did  the  public,  though  she  tried  hard 
enough  to  make  them  think  so.  Of  course,  she  gave  up 
the  stage  when  she  became  Mrs.  Josiah,  Jr.  She  prob 
ably  expected  to  try  her  histrionic  talent  in  melting  the 
heart  of  the  stern  parent — but  old  Dorr  didn't  give  her  a 
chance.  He  never  laid  eyes  on  her! 

JACK.  Not  even  after  Bobbie  was  born?  That  fre 
quently  makes  a  difference! 

SIDNEY.  Old  Dorr  saw  nothing  of  Bobbie  till  both 
Josiah,  Jr.  and  his  actress-wife  were  dead.  Then  Aunt 
Martha  took  charge  of  Bobbie  and  the  boy  grew  up  under 
her  care.  After  that  nothing  was  too  good  for  the  hope 
of  the  family.  They  took  him  to  Lausanne  for  his  educa 
tion,  gave  him  a  thoroughly  cosmopolitan  training,  topped 
off  with  a  few  semesters  at  Heidelberg.  He  speaks  four 
languages — but  I  don't  believe  he  has  been  accused  of 
enriching  the  world's  store  of  thought  in  any  of  them. 
Behold  to-night  the  finished  product,  capering  in  yonder 


22  Monsieur  D'Or  PRO- 

ball  room!  When  he  reaches  his  twenty-fifth  birthday  a 
few  weeks  hence  he  will  be  the  happy  possessor  of  some 
forty  millions. 

JACK.  A  fellow  has  little  excuse  for  being  anything 
but  the  most  decent  sort  of  chap  under  such  conditions. 
Fate  has  been  unusually  kind  to  Bobbie  Dorr. 

SIDNEY.  He's  no  silly  offspring  of  superabundant 
wealth — Bobbie's  a  capital  fellow  in  many  respects,  but  I 
can't  quite  overlook  his  patronizing  air,  his  superb  confi 
dence  in  the  power  of  his  riches.  That  sort  of  thing  is 
pardonable  in  a  man  who  has  created  the  wealth,  who  has 
wrested  it  from  the  unyielding  earth  by  the  sweat  of  his 
brow  or  has  won  it  by  the  exercise  of  his  superior  wit,  but 
it  takes  little  genius  to  inherit  another  man's  money. 

JACK.  Here  he  comes,  Sid ;  we're  in  for  a  quick  change 
of  subject.  [Louder. "}  In  my  opinion,  these  gardens  are 
among  the  most  attractive  at  Lenox.  There's  that  fine 
row  of  Lombardy  poplars — [ROBERT  DORR  enters  from 
the  ball  room.  His  evening  attire  is  beyond  criticism 
save  for  the  fact  that  he  wears  large  gold  studs  in  his 
shirt,  a  heavy  gold  fob  and  several  conspicuously  large 
rings. ,] 

DORR.  Would  anybody  believe  it?  A  room  full  of 
charming  girls,  and  you  two  solemn  philosophers  out  here 
in  the  dark  discussing  the  Lombardy  poplars.  Can  you 
find  nothing  better  to  talk  about? 

SIDNEY.  I'm  sure  we're  both  booked  for  every  dance 
on  the  list.  It's  a  breath  of  fresh  air  we're  after  now. 

DORR.  Meanwhile  the  ladies  are  commenting  upon 
your  ungallant  disappearance;  but  you  cannot  elude  them 
long.  Billy  Fanshawe  is  bringing  out  a  small  party  to 


LOG  Monsieur  D'Or  23 

view  the  lower  gardens.     Perhaps  such  a  trip  would  ap 
peal  to  you? 

JACK.  It's  a  lark!  I  wonder  how  they  ever  got  Billy 
away  from  the  lobster  cutlets  and  the  soft  crabs.  [Enter 
BILLY  left,  followed  by  MRS.  KEENE,  MARIAN,  GER 
TRUDE,  MARGARET  and  ROSE.] 

BILLY.  [Officiously,  from  the  top  step.~\  All  in  line 
for  a  personally-conducted  tour  around  the  celebrated 
Dorr  gardens.  The  small  and  select  party  will  be  care 
fully  chaperoned  by  Mrs.  Keene  and  will  be  under  the 
immediate  direction  of  Mr.  William  Fanshawe,  the  well- 
known  cicerone,  who  will  explain  all  points  of  interest. 

JACK.  Bully,  old  man!  You're  as  impressive  as  the 
prospectus  of  a  Cook's  tour. 

MRS.  KEENE.  Come  on,  girls.  [They  descend  to  the 
terrace.']  Why,  Mr.  Norgate  and  Mr.  Hastings !  I  have 
been  wondering  what  had  become  of  you. 

SIDNEY.  We  just  stepped  out  to  admire  the  garden 
and  we  now  crave  permission  to  join  your  small  and  select 
party. 

MARIAN.  I  think  they're  horrid  in  coming  out  here 
to  smoke  and  then  to  pretend  they  were  admiring  the 
garden.  I  move  that  we  refuse  them  permission  to  join 
our  party.  All  in  favor  say  '  aye.' 

THE  GIRLS.     [In  chorus. ~]    Aye! 

MARIAN.  It  is  carried.  Mr.  Hastings  and  Mr.  Nor 
gate  are  not  permitted  to  join  us. 

SIDNEY.  Pardon  me,  Miss  Winthrop,  you  are  not  par 
liamentary.  You  put  your  own  motion — you  even  for 
got  to  wait  till  some  one  seconded  it. 

MARIAN.  What  was  the  use?  I  knew  they  were  all 
in  favor  of  it. 


24  Monsieur  D'Or  PRO- 

SIDNEY.  You  ought  to  be  in  Congress — they  need 
girls  like  you.  But  seriously,  do  you  mean  to  say  we  may 
not  join  you? 

GERTRUDE.     Yes,  and  it  serves  you  right,  too ! 

BILLY.  Hold  on!  I  want  to  amend  that  resolution. 
If  you  girls  don't  mind,  I  should  like  to  have  Jack  Nor- 
gate  along.  He  knows  the  names  of  the  trees  and  shrubs 
better  than  I  do. 

MARGARET.  What!  better  than  the  well-known  cice 
rone? 

BILLY.  I  regret  to  say  he  does.  In  fact,  I  might 
make  a  mess  of  it  without  him. 

MARIAN.     Shall  we  relent,  Mrs.  Keene? 

MRS.  KEENE.  I  suppose  so,  though  you  are  adding  to 
my  responsibilities  as  chaperone.  [BiLLY  mounts  the 
marble  railing  and  detaches  one  of  the  Japanese  lanterns.'] 

ROSE.  But  only  Mr.  Norgate — not  Mr.  Hastings.  He 
has  been  too  sarcastic. 

SIDNEY.  Ladies,  I  am  overwhelmed  with  the  sense  of 
my  shortcomings.  I  spare  you  the  need  of  further  delib 
eration  by  admitting  that  I  am  unworthy  of  your  com 
pany. 

GERTRUDE.  How  pathetic!  I  believe  he's  glad  we 
don't  want  him! 

MARGARET.     Mr.  Dorr,  won't  you  join  us? 

DORR.  Thank  you — I  think  I  shall  try  to  entertain 
Mr.  Hastings  during  your  absence. 

MARIAN.     He  ought  to  be  left  by  himself. 

DORR.  I  should  hate  to  leave  him  in  such  bad  com 
pany.  I  want  to  try  moral  suasion  on  him. 

BILLY.  I  hope  he  survives.  [Holds  up  the  lantern.'] 
Ladies,  are  you  ready? 


LOG  Monsieur  D'Or  25 

MRS.  KEENE.  We  shall  surely  need  more  light.  It 
must  be  very  dark  at  the  foot  of  the  garden. 

BILLY.  One's  enough.  Besides,  if  we  had  more,  you 
might  get  confused  and  follow  some  other  lantern  instead 
of  mine. 

DORR.     Don't  forget  to  show  the  ladies  the  sun-dial. 

ROSE.     Oh !  a  sun-dial !     Isn't  that  romantic ! 

SIDNEY.     Especially  at  this  time  of  night. 

DORR.  It's  a  quaint  old  dial  that  was  brought  over 
from  Italy  many  years  ago. 

BILLY.  [Whispers  to  DORR.]  By  the  way,  Bobbie, 
what  does  that  Italian  motto  on  the  sun-dial  mean?  I 
always  forget  it. 

DORR.     *  Time  will  reveal  all  things.' 

BILLY.  Thanks.  That  helps  me  over  one  difficulty 
at  least.  Come  on,  ladies.  We're  now  under  way!  [He 
heads  the  procession  off  right,  followed  by  MRS.  KEENE 
and  the  girls.  The  latter  speak  almost  simultaneously  as 
they  leave.] 

MARIAN.  Au  revoir!  I  hope  you'll  enjoy  that  moral 
suasion,  Mr.  Hastings! 

ROSE.     Don't  spare  him,  Mr.  Dorr! 

GERTRUDE.     I  hope  you  will  profit  by  it,  Mr.  Hastings ! 

MARGARET.  You  are  too  self-sacrificing,  Mr.  Dorr! 
[They  go  off.] 

SIDNEY.  [Laughing.]  In  such  charming  creatures  as 
these  rests  most  of  our  happiness  in  life.  I  suppose  I 
ought  to  be  in  a  penitent  mood — they  will  all  be  ready  to 
forgive  me  when  I  dance  with  them  later  on.  [He  offers 
DORR  a  cigarette]  Smoke,  Dorr? 

DORR.     [Takes  cigarette]     Thanks.     [After  a  pause] 


26  Monsieur  D'Or  PRO- 

Do  you  know,  Hastings,  the  women  seem  to  be  more  or 
less  afraid  of  you?  I've  noticed  it  many  times. 

SIDNEY.  The  sex  has  evidently  little  respect  for  my 
cynical  philosophy.  It's  a  pleasure  to  toss  a  choice  morsel 
of  flippancy  at  them  and  watch  them  gasp. 

DORR.  [Reflectively.'}  They're  a  life-long  study  for 
the  keenest  man.  How  splendidly  they  play  their  parts! 
Every  woman's  an  actress  at  heart.  [Pointing  to  the  gar 
den.]  There  is  a  group  of  apparently  ingenuous,  simple- 
hearted  young  creatures  alive  to  the  pleasure  of  the  moment 
and  intent  upon  enjoying  existence — yet  I'll  wager  that  in 
each  feminine  mind  there  are  deep-laid  schemes  beyond 
your  detection  or  mine. 

SIDNEY.  We  men  are  at  a  disadvantage  because  we 
have  no  adequate  weapon  to  match  theirs — and  the  laws 
of  common  courtesy  render  us  helpless  before  their  clev 
erly  concealed  advances.  To  make  matters  worse,  each 
fair  antagonist  plans  her  campaign  in  her  own  individual 
manner — woe  to  the  presumptuous  man  who  tries  to  gen 
eralize  their  methods.  No  two  of  them  will  act  precisely 
alike  in  effecting  their  ends. 

DORR.     They're  all  alike  in  one  thing,  Hastings. 

SIDNEY.     What's  that? 

DORR.  Their  respect  for  wealth!  They  may  be  as 
individual  as  you  please;  but  exhibit  your  pile  of  gold — 
the  talisman  that  puts  the  luxurious  gowns  upon  their 
backs  and  the  gleaming  jewels  about  their  persons — and 
you'll  find  them  all  ready  to  purr  like  a  lot  of  kittens  over 
a  bowl  of  warm  milk! 

SIDNEY.  See  here,  Dorr,  I  thought  I  was  a  bit  of  a 
cynic  myself,  but  I  never  quite  believed  that.  You  don't 


LOG  Monsieur  D'Or  27 

mean  to  say  that  a  woman  cannot  rise  above  a  cringing 
regard  for  mere  material  wealth? 

DORR.  I  mean  just  that;  no  woman — and  no  man 
either,  for  that  matter.  It  was  long  before  our  time  that 
a  famous  statesman  declared  that  every  man  had  his  price 
— and  I  don't  believe  he  had  any  intention  of  ignoring 
woman  when  he  said  it. 

SIDNEY.  [Seriously. ]  Well,  if  you  really  feel  that  way 
about  it,  I  must  insist  that  you  are  far  more  in  need  of 
moral  suasion  than  I  am.  We  two  are  very  different, 
Dorr,  in  one  respect. 

DORR.     Yes? 

SIDNEY.  If  you  will  pardon  my  saying  so,  I  flash  an 
occasional  cynicism  upon  the  ladies  that  puts  them  on  their 
guard  and  marks  me  as  a  person  to  be  treated  with  cau 
tion.  You  retain  their  good  opinion  by  an  outward  show 
of  courtesy  and  deference,  yet  in  your  heart  you  entertain 
sentiments  that  make  it  impossible  for  you  to  respect  a 
single  human  creature. 

DORR.  We're  quite  different  in  another  respect,  Hast 
ings.  You  light  upon  a  thing  of  this  sort  and  brood  over 
it  until  it  spoils  your  good  nature.  I  take  it  for  granted 
that  we  are  all  corruptible  and  that  none  can  stand  the 
absolute  tests  of  integrity,  but  I  don't  worry  about  it. 
This  is  a  good  enough  world  if  one  has  the  power  to  com 
mand  its  good  things.  When  it  comes  to  testing  the  power 
of  its  talisman  [He  draws  a  few  gold  coins  from  his  pocket 
and  jingles  them.']  I  must  affirm  that  those  who  have  tried 
its  virtues  are,  after  all,  the  best  judges  of  its  merits. 
[SIDNEY  tosses  away  his  cigarette  with  a  gesture  of  dis 
gust.']  What's  the  matter? 


28  Monsieur  D'Or  PRO- 

SIDNEY.  The  tobacco  was  beginning  to  taste  bad;  I 
have  smoked  enough,  anyhow.  [He  rises  and  gazes  down 
into  the  garden.  DORR  hesitates  for  a  moment,  then 
crosses  to  him.] 

DORR.  Evidently  you  find  my  views  very  shocking. 
Somehow  I  expected  you  to  agree  with  me. 

SIDNEY.  I  presume  I  am  like  most  of  my  kind — when 
I  find  a  man  more  cynical  than  myself  I  conclude  that  it 
is  time  to  reform  my  philosophy  of  life.  [After  a  pause] 
Bobbie  Dorr,  when  you  say  that  you  believe  all  men  and 
women  bow  to  the  power  of  wealth,  do  you  make  no 
reservations — no  exceptions  ? 

DORR.  I  make  no  exceptions — not  even  myself!  If  I 
were  a  poor  man,  I  should  be  as  corruptible  as  the  rest. 
There  are  no  exceptions! 

SIDNEY.  [Slowly.]  Not  even  such  a  girl  as — Eleanor 
Richmond  ? 

DORR.  [Annoyed]  Why  should  you  mention  Miss 
Richmond  in  this  connection? 

SIDNEY.  Pardon  me — because  I  believe  that  you  care 
more  about  her  than  you  do  about  most  girls.  I  know 
you  admire  her;  I  don't  hesitate  to  say  that  I  regard  her 
as  the  embodiment  of  all  that  is  lovable  in  woman.  I 
wondered  whether  you  were  willing  to  class  her  with  the 
rest  of  your  mercenary  herd — that  is  all. 

DORR.  [With  constraint]  Miss  Richmond  has  always 
enjoyed  all  the  luxuries  that  wealth  can  supply.  Where 
gold  has  nothing  to  offer  it  cannot  be  expected  to  corrupt. 
I  should  prefer  to  discuss  this  question  in  the  abstract 
without  considering  its  bearing  upon  Miss  Richmond,  or 
upon  any  one  else,  for  that  matter.  [Shrieks  are  heard 
from  the  garden.  SIDNEY  crosses  to  the  right] 


LOG  Monsieur  D'Or  29 

SIDNEY.  Something  has  happened  to  Mrs.  Keene's 
party ! 

DORR.  [Peering  off  right.']  They  are  coming  up  the 
path.  Their  lantern  is  extinguished!  Billy's  personally 
conducted  tour  seems  to  have  ended  in  a  fizzle. 

SIDNEY.  [Looking  towards  the  left.]  Those  shrieks 
were  evidently  heard  in  the  ball  room.  Miss  Richmond 
is  coming  out.  [ELEANOR  enters  with  an  alarmed  look. 
DORR  crosses  to  her.] 

ELEANOR.  What  is  it,  Bobbie?  I  thought  I  heard 
some  one  crying  from  the  garden. 

DORR.  You  undoubtedly  did.  Billy  Fanshawe  has 
been  trying  to  guide  Mrs.  Keene  and  a  party  of  the  girls 
about  the  place  and  he  has  evidently  come  to  grief.  We 
shall  know  in  a  moment. 

ELEANOR.  You  don't  suppose  that  anything  serious 
has  happened? 

SIDNEY.  It's  hardly  likely — Jack  Norgate  is  with 
them.  [Confused  voices  and  exclamations  off  right }  draw 
ing  nearer.^ 

DORR.  [Looking  off.]  This  way!  Watch  out  for 
that  step!  [Another  shriek  and  exclamations.  The  girls 
tumble  in  hastily  in  couples.  Finally  BILLY  and  JACK 
supporting  MRS.  KEENE  between  them.] 

ELEANOR.  Why,  what  has  happened?  [The  girls 
assist  each  other  in  smoothing  their  ruffled  hair  and  gowns. 
The  men  escort  MRS.  KEENE  to  the  right  bench,  where 
she  gasps  for  breath, .] 

MARIAN.  Billy  Fanshawe  was  showing  us  around  the 
garden — and  everything  was  so  beautiful!  We  had  just 
reached  the  sun-dial  and  Billy  raised  his  lantern  to  read 


30  Monsieur  D'Or  PRO 

the  curious  Italian  inscription  when  a  sudden  gust  of  wind 
blew  out  the  light — 

GERTRUDE.  And  we  were  left  in  the  dark — it  was 
pitch  dark,  and  the  boys  had  no  matches! 

MRS.  KEENE.  [Dramatically.]  There  was  no  sudden 
gust  of  wind!  Mr.  Norgate  deliberately  blew  out  the 
light.  I  never  experienced  anything  so  outrageous! 

JACK.  My  dear  Mrs.  Keene — I  must  protest.  I  was 
simply  leaning  over  Billy's  shoulder  to  see  the  inscription. 
I  was  just  about  to  read  off  the  Italian  words  when  I 
suddenly  found  myself  in  total  darkness. 

SIDNEY.  Perhaps  your  Italian  pronunciation  put  out 
the  light. 

MRS.  KEENE.  [Severely.]  Sidney  Hastings,  this  is  no 
matter  for  jesting.  The  worst  is  yet  to  come!  [The 
girls  look  at  each  other  with  assumed  surprise.] 

ROSE.     What  do  you  mean  ? 

MRS.  KEENE.  I  mean  that  after  that  light  went  out 
the  behavior  of  those  young  men  was  disgraceful.  There 
was  hugging  and  kissing  all  about  me! 

MARGARET.  Oh!  Mrs.  Keene!  How  can  you  say  such 
a  thing?  Of  course,  we  all  uttered  exclamations  of  sur 
prise. 

MRS.  KEENE.  You  certainly  did — and  several  of  you 
young  ladies  also  said  'stop'!  [The  girls  look  at  one 
another^ 

BILLY.  [Slowly.]  I  suppose  Jack  and  I  are  disgraced 
forever,  Mrs.  Keene,  if  you're  going  to  believe  that  about 
us.  I  say  it's  unkind. 

MRS.  KEENE.  \Witheringly, ]  There  is  just  one 
thing  I'd  like  to  find  out. 


LOG  Monsieur  D'Or  31 

JACK.     [Innocently.]    What  is  it? 

MRS.  KEENE.  Which  of  you  two  young  men  put  his 
arm  around  my  waist — by  mistake,  of  course!  [JACK 
and  BILLY  look  foolishly  at  each  other.  The  rest  chuckle 
wherever  MRS.  KEENE  cannot  see  them.] 

MARIAN.  [To  the  rescue.]  I  believe  I  put  my  arm 
around  your  waist — I  was  very  much  frightened. 

MRS.  KEENE.  [With  sarcasm.]  I  dare  say  you  girls 
were  so  much  frightened  that  you  all  had  your  arms  about 
each  other's  waists;  and  our  two  gallant  escorts — I  sup 
pose  they  will  also  insist  that  they  embraced  each  other  for 
mutual  protection. 

DORR.  I  think  you  might  make  some  allowance,  Mrs. 
Keene.  The  boys  were  probably  doing  their  best  to  keep 
the  party  close  together. 

MRS.  KEENE.  The  party  was  close  enough,  I  assure 
you.  I'm  glad  it's  all  over.  No  more  garden  trips  for 
me  in  the  dark,  especially  when  there  are  irresponsible 
young  men  in  the  party.  [She  rises  and  crosses  to  the 
left.]  You  girls  had  better  come  inside — the  dancing  will 
go  on  in  a  few  moments. 

ROSE.  I'm  so  sorry  about  the  sun-dial.  I  scarcely  had 
a  look  at  it — I  was  so  anxious  to  see  it. 

GERTRUDE.  We  couldn't  even  read  the  Italian  motto. 
What  was  it,  Billy? 

BILLY.  The  exact  Italian  words  have  slipped  my  mem 
ory,  but  they  meant — let  me  see — they  meant — 

ELEANOR.  '  Time  will  reveal  all  things.'  [Soft  waltz 
music  begins  in  the  ball  room.] 

MRS.  KEENE.  A  very  good  motto,  Mr.  Fanshawe. 
Perhaps  some  day  time  will  reveal  how  that  light  went 


32  Monsieur  D'Or  PRO- 

out!  Come,  girls,  the  music  has  begun.  [They  enter 
the  ball  room  in  groups,  DORR  and  ELEANOR  in  the  rear. 
They  detach  themselves  from  the  rest.'] 

DORR.  [Softly.]  The  next  dance  is  mine,  Eleanor. 
Shall  we  not  stay  out  here  for  a  few  moments  ? 

ELEANOR.  Yes,  if  you  wish.  [He  leads  her  to  the 
bench  at  the  right.] 

DORR.  I  have  been  eager  all  evening  to  have  a  few 
words  with  you  apart  from  that  restless  whirl  inside — 
just  we  two  alone,  with  our  little  secret! 

ELEANOR.  You  silly  boy !  Be  careful  you  don't  betray 
us.  [Looks  toward  the  garden.]  How  delightful  it  is 
out  here  in  the  open !  There  is  a  slight  breeze.  Bobbie, 
do  you  believe  Aunt  Sara  was  right  in  declaring  that  the 
boys  put  out  that  light? 

DORR.  Certainly.  You  heard  Gertrude  Paston  say  the 
boys  had  no  matches  to  re-light  the  lantern.  Well,  Jack 
was  out  here  smoking  with  Hastings  before  he  joined  your 
aunt's  party. 

ELEANOR.  Of  course,  Gertrude  and  Jack  are  rather 
fond  of  each  other — 

DORR.     I  don't  blame  him  for  not  finding  his  matches. 

ELEANOR.  You  know  I  didn't  mean  that — I  don't 
believe  Jack  would  do  such  a  thing !  You  wouldn't,  Bobbie  ? 

DORR.  Not  in  their  bungling  fashion,  perhaps — but 
there's  no  telling  what  a  fellow  wouldn't  do  for  a  few 
golden  moments  with  a  girl  he  cared  for.  I  grant  that  if 
there's  a  bevy  of  girls  about,  he  may  possibly  hug  the 
wrong  one — he  may  even  embrace  the  chaperone,  eh? 
[He  laughs  softly.] 

ELEANOR.  Don't  say  such  things,  Bobbie.  You  shouldn't 
talk  so  flippantly. 


LOG  Monsieur  D'Or  33 

DORR.  It's  true,  isn't  it?  In  spite  of  their  apparent 
protests,  there  wasn't  one  in  that  party  who  regretted  the 
little  episode  at  the  sun-dial — except  your  aunt,  of  course, 
and  she  protested  mainly  on  behalf  of  outraged  social 
decorum.  One  can  hardly  help  being  flippant  about  such 
women ! 

ELEANOR.     Bobbie ! 

DORR.  I  know — she's  your  aunt — that's  the  best  I  can 
say  for  her;  she  doesn't  deserve  the  honor.  But  after  all, 
why  should  we  bother  about  these  people?  We  can  be 
happy  out  here — with  our  secret.  The  time  will  be  short 
enough.  Who  has  the  next  dance? 

ELEANOR.     [Looking  at  the  card.]     Harold  Westbrook. 

DORR.  He  won't  be  long  in  claiming  you.  I  can't 
help  feeling  decidedly  jealous  when  I  see  some  one  else 
swinging  you  about  the  floor.  [He  takes  her  hand.]  But 
soon  I  shall  make  them  all  envious  forever — soon  our  little 
secret  will  no  longer  be  our  own.  Within  two  months 
my  grandfather's  fortune  passes  into  my  hands,  and  then — 

ELEANOR.  Then  you  will  be  a  very  wealthy  man, 
Bobbie,  but  your  fortune  will  carry  serious  responsibilities 
with  it.  You  can  find  better  things  to  do  than  trying  to 
make  the  other  boys  envious  of  you. 

DORR.  They  must  be  envious  when  they  learn  that  you 
are  mine,  when  they  see  you  resplendent  as  a  queen,  daz 
zling  from  head  to  foot;  they'll  no  longer  sneer  at  my 
wealth — they  will  realize  what  it  has  achieved  for  me! 

ELEANOR.  [Withdrawing  her  hand.']  What  your 
wealth  has  achieved  for  you!  You  believe  that  your 
grandfather's  money  makes  a  difference? 

DORR.     Why  not?     If  I  were  a  poor  man,  I  wouldn't 
3 


34  Monsieur  D'Or  PRO 

ask  a  girl  I  loved  to  share  my  poverty  and  thus  spoil  her 
own  chance  of  happiness ;  but  if  I  can  give  my  wife  every 
thing  that  heart  can  desire,  why  shouldn't  it  make  a 
difference  ? 

ELEANOR.  [Reflectively.'}  There  is  one  great  happi 
ness  that  is  denied  to  the  rich  girl — the  happiness  that 
comes  to  the  self-sacrificing  wife  who  helps  her  husband 
in  his  struggle  with  the  world,  who  stands  at  his  side 
offering  aid  and  encouragement  until  together  they  forge 
their  way  upward  to  the  heights  of  success — a  success  that 
both  can  cherish  as  a  result  of  mutual  effort. 

DORR.  That's  all  mere  story-book  sentimentality.  Let 
a  poor  husband  and  his  self-sacrificing  wife  start  out 
together  in  a  life  of  poverty,  and  ten  to  one  he's  ashamed 
of  her  when  he  has  made  his  fortune — if  he  ever  does. 
The  newspapers  are  full  of  such  instances.  Don't  cast  a 
romantic  glamor  over  a  state  of  affairs  that  would  be 
extremely  unpleasant  in  real  life.  You  wouldn't  be  the 
sort  of  girl  for  such  a  career! 

ELEANOR.  [With  spirit.']  A  true  woman  finds  her 
happiness  with  the  man  she  loves,  whether  rich  or  poor; 
she  does  not  find  it  in  a  mere  riot  of  gold ! 

DORR.  But  the  gold  helps !  The  gold  makes  life  pleasant 
— it  gives  us  what  we  desire.  [She  turns  away.~\  Why, 
Eleanor,  you're  not  going  to  let  this  spoil  things?  Re 
member  our  secret ! 

ELEANOR.     Bobbie — [A  pause.}     We  can  no  longer — 

DORR.  You're  not  going  to  throw  me  over  for  a  mere 
difference  of  opinion?  We  have  our  lives  before  us  and 
everything  to  live  for — 

ELEANOR.     Yes,  we  have  everything — except  spiritual 


LOG  Monsieur  D'Or  35 

kinship.  I'm  sorry,  Bobbie — heartily  sorry,  but  I'm  also 
thankful  I  found  that  out  in  time.  [The  music  ceases.] 

DORR.  The  dance  is  over!  Westbrook  will  be  here 
in  a  moment  to  claim  you.  Will  you  let  it  end  in  this 
way? 

ELEANOR.  [Rising.']  I  cannot  hope  that  you  will 
understand  how  distressed  I  am,  but  I  want  to  say  just 
one  thing,  Bobbie — to-night  seems  to  mark  a  turning  point 
in  our  lives.  I  trust  it  is  for  the  best.  Whatever  happens 
hereafter,  I  want  you  to  remember  the  motto  on  your  old 
Italian  sun-dial — 

DORR.     [Mechanically.']     '  Time  will  reveal  all  things.' 

ELEANOR.  Yes.  We  shall  both  grow  older  and  per 
haps  we  shall  see  with  a  clearer  vision  than  now.  I  shall 
not  forget — [HAROLD  enters  hastily  from  the  ball  room.] 

HAROLD.  Ah,  Miss  Richmond,  you  are  here.  The  next 
dance  is  mine,  I  believe? 

ELEANOR.  [Taking  his  arm.]  Yes,  Mr.  Westbrook. 
Are  you  coming  in,  Bobbie? 

DORR.  Not  now.  [As  they  pass  up  the  steps  left,  he 
deliberately  lights  a  cigarette.]  '  Time  will  reveal  all 
things.' — I  hope  it  will;  then  we'll  see  if  I'm  not  right. 
[Taking  a  few  gold  coins  from  his  pocket  he  tosses  them  in 
his  palm.]  Now,  my  golden  friends,  you,  at  least,  will 
be  true  to  me!  I  shall  rely  upon  you  to  show  her — her 
and  all  the  rest  of  them  your  wonderful  power!  [He 
looks  toward  the  ball  room  as  the  dance-music  resumes  and 
the  curtain  descends.] 


SCENE  I 

[The  office  of  Lehmann  Freres  in  their  factory  at  St. 
Gallen.  It  is  furnished  in  a  manner  appropriate  to  a 
prosperous  business  concern.  In  the  centre  is  a  large  rec 
tangular  table  with  several  chairs.  At  the  left  is  a  low 
flat  desk  with  papers,  telephone  and  chair.  Close  to  the 
wall  behind  the  desk  is  a  telephone  switchboard  for  com 
municating  with  various  parts  of  the  works.  At  the  right 
there  is  a  modern  office-desk,  richly  furnished,  with  a  hat- 
rack  nearby.  In  the  centre  back  is  a  large  leather  covered 
davenport  above  which  hangs  a  portrait  of  the  late  M. 
Lehmann  senior,  the  father  of  Lehmann  Freres  and  the 
honored  founder  of  the  establishment.  Elsewhere  on  the 
walls  hang  framed  views  of  the  plant  and  other  appro 
priate  pictures.  There  are  exits  right  and  left  to  inner 
offices,  likewise  two  exits  in  the  rear,  the  right  exit  leading 
to  the  street  and  provided  with  a  glass-door,  the  left  exit 
leading  to  the  shops.  Whenever  the  left  exit  is  opened 
the  heavy  whirr  of  machinery  is  heard  within.  As  the 
curtain  rises,  BERTINE  is  seen  at  the  flat  desk,  left,  sign 
ing  papers.  A  few  moments  later  the  telephone  bell  rings. 
BERTINE  answers  the  telephone  at  his  desk.] 

BERTINE.  Hello!  ...  Yes  ...  M.  Raoul  Leh 
mann  is  out  at  present.  .  .  .  This  is  his  secretary,  M.  Ber- 
tine.  .  .  .  Yes.  ...  He  should  be  here  shortly.  .  .  .  No. 
.  .  .  M.  Frederic  Lehmann  has  an  important  conference 
on  hand  in  this  office  at  three  o'clock.  .  .  .  No.  .  .  .  Im 
possible  !  .  .  .  No !  .  .  .  No ! !  .  .  .  Very  well.  .  .  .  Good-by. 

36 


I  Monsieur  D'Or  37 

\_He  hangs  up  the  receiver  and  resumes  work  at  his  papers. 
RAOUL  LEHMANN  enters  at  the  rear  right  entrance  with 
hat,  cane  and  gloves,  which  he  places  on  the  rack  near  his 
desk  at  the  right.'] 

BERTINE.  Good  afternoon,  M.  Lehmann.  I  have  just 
had  a  telephone  call  from  a  reporter  of  Le  Journal  asking 
for  an  interview  with  you  or  your  brother. 

RAOUL.  Ah!  So  the  newspapers  have  learned  of  our 
trouble  with  our  operatives.  I  presume  they  wish  to  send 
a  representative  to  the  conference? 

BERTINE.  Yes.  I  took  the  liberty  of  informing  the 
reporter  that  it  was  impossible. 

RAOUL.  Very  good!  Has  my  brother  returned  from 
luncheon  ? 

BERTINE.  Not  yet,  sir.  [He  hands  a  telegram  to 
RAOUL.]  This  telegram  arrived  while  you  were  out. 

RAOUL.  [Opens  it  and  reads.]  '  If  possible,  kindly 
postpone  conference  till  five  o'clock.  I  wish  to  be  present 
at  the  meeting.  Signed,  D'Or.' 

BERTINE.     M.  D'Or! 

RAOUL.  As  he  chooses  to  call  himself — the  grandson 
of  the  late  Josiah  Dorr,  whose  money  coupled  with  the 
brains  of  my  honored  father  [Pointing  to  the  portrait.] 
made  this  great  plant  possible.  Let  me  see — the  Dorr 
estate  holds  about  one-third  of  the  shares,  does  it  not? 

BERTINE.  Somewhat  more.  Within  the  last  few  months 
they  have  increased  their  holdings  to  nearly  forty  per  cent. 

RAOUL.  In  any  event,  it  is  enough  to  command  respect 
for  such  a  request  as  this.  [FREDERIC  LEHMANN  enters 
at  the  rear  right  entrance  with  hat  and  gloves.]  Ah! 
Frederic.  I  have  just  received  this  communication  from 
M.  D'Or.  [He  hands  the  telegram  to  FREDERIC.] 


38  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

FREDERIC.  [Reads.}  So!  The  mysterious  grandson 
and  heir! 

RAOUL.  We  must  accede  to  the  request.  He  may 
make  trouble  otherwise — we  have  enough  to  worry  about 
without  antagonizing  our  shareholders. 

FREDERIC.  By  all  means!  If  he  is  anything  like  his 
grandfather,  he  will  strengthen  our  position  very  much. 
Old  Josiah  always  took  care  that  he  got  his  share  of  the 
spoils — and  usually  a  little  besides! 

RAOUL.  [To  BERTINE.]  Kindly  have  M.  Albert  sent 
here  at  once.  He  heads  the  delegation,  I  believe? 

BERTINE.  Yes.  [He  goes  to  the  house-telephone  and 
adjusts  the  plug.']  Hello.  .  .  .  Yes.  .  .  .  Ask  M.  Albert 
to  come  to  the  office.  .  .  .  Yes.  .  .  .  That's  all. 

FREDERIC.  [Looking  at  the  telegram.']  So  the  grand 
son  of  old  Mr.  Dorr  blossoms  into  M.  D'Or! 

RAOUL.  Some  rogue  of  a  genealogist  probably  con 
vinced  him  that  the  change  of  name  could  be  defended. 
The  rich  American  has  a  weakness  for  that  sort  of  thing. 
The  manufacture  of  genealogies  is  a  more  profitable  indus 
try  than  that  of  laces,  Frederic ! 

FREDERIC.  Very  likely;  but  it  demands  an  imagina 
tion — an  inventive  faculty  that  most  of  us  do  not  possess. 
[ALBERT  enters  at  the  rear,  left.  He  bows  respectfully 
to  the  LEHMANNS.] 

RAOUL.  M.  Albert,  our  conference  this  afternoon  will 
be  postponed  until  five  o'clock.  M.  D'Or,  who  is  one  of 
our  American  shareholders,  wishes  to  attend  the  meeting, 
so  we  are  making  this  change  to  accommodate  him. 

ALBERT.  Very  well,  M.  Lehmann.  Shall  I  inform 
my  associates? 

RAOUL.     Yes.     I  believe  there  are  five  of  you? 


I  Monsieur  D'Or  39 

ALBERT.  Two  of  the  men  besides  myself  and  two  of 
the  women. 

RAOUL.  You  may  return  to  your  work,  M.  Albert. 
[ALBERT  bows  himself  out  at  the  left  rear  entrance.} 

FREDERIC.  [Who  has  been  examining  a  paper  at  the 
table.]  M.  Bertine,  will  you  look  over  this  schedule  and 
compare  it  with  the  duplicate  on  file  in  my  office? 

BERTINE.  [Taking  the  paper. ~]  Very  well,  M.  Leh- 
mann.  [He  bows  low  and  goes  out  at  the  side  door,  left] 

FREDERIC.  Bah !  What  a  life  it  must  be  to  cringe  and 
bow  continually  to  one's  superiors.  Our  M.  Albert  from 
the  shops  is  scarcely  more  servile  than  our  M.  Bertine  in 
his  attitude  towards  us. 

RAOUL.  True  enough;  but  let  M.  Albert  show  lack 
of  respect  to  so  influential  a  man  as  M.  Bertine  and  he 
would  soon  feel  the  consequences.  Even  the  secretary  of 
Lehmann  Freres  is  a  great  man  in  the  eyes  of  his  inferiors. 
[He  goes  to  his  desk]  It's  a  queer  world,  Frederic,  but 
there's  considerable  satisfaction  to  be  gained  from  being 
in  the  front  ranks. 

FREDERIC.  Yes — to  issue  orders,  not  to  take  them;  to 
command  men,  not  to  obey  them.  [Looks  at  the  portrait] 
What  a  debt  we  owe,  Raoul,  to  the  genius  of  our  dear 
father! 

RAOUL.  [Drily,  at  the  desk,  without  looking  around] 
And  to  the  money  of  old  Josiah  Dorr! 

FREDERIC.  Certainly — but  tell  me,  could  anything  be 
more  useless,  in  fact  more  harmful  than  such  money  unless 
administered  with  discretion  and  foresight? 

RAOUL.  By  the  way,  Frederic,  M.  Bertine  has  just 
informed  me  that  the  Dorr  interest  is  now  forty  per  cent. 


40  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

of  our  capital.  Have  you  been  keeping  track  of  the  stock- 
transfers  ? 

FREDERIC.     You  signed  the  certificates  as  well  as  I. 

RAOUL.  True;  they  were  all  for  small  amounts,  but 
it  now  occurs  to  me  there  were  a  great  many  of  them.  I 
often  regret  that  we  ever  reduced  our  holdings  below  an 
actual  majority  of  the  stock.  Of  course,  you  had  to  fur 
nish  your  villa  on  the  Axenstrasse — 

FREDERIC.  And  you  needed  money  to  keep  your  racing- 
stables  stocked  with  thoroughbreds.  You  know  very  well, 
Raoul,  that  you  disposed  of  more  shares  than  I  did. 

RAOUL.  We  have  both  been  careless  in  the  matter. 
Our  joint  holdings  are  about  forty-five  per  cent.,  which  is 
but  a  little  more  than  the  Dorr  estate  now  holds.  I 
know,  the  rest  is  scattered  in  small  lots,  but  I  get  appre 
hensive  at  times.  [He  goes  over  to  FREDERIC.]  Frederic, 
we  have  a  serious  duty  before  us — we  must  regain  a  major 
ity  interest  of  the  stock. 

FREDERIC.  You  are  right.  We  cannot  afford  to  take 
chances  on  losing  control  of  the  business.  I  shall  increase 
the  mortgage  on  my  villa;  you  can  probably  spare  a  few 
of  your  horses? 

RAOUL.  Yes.  We  must  also  devise  other  means  of 
raising  money.  One  thing  is  certain — we  cannot  grant  the 
demand  of  our  workpeople  for  higher  wages.  [He  picks 
up  the  petition  from  BERTINE'S  desk  and  scans  it."]  I 
note  that  they  ask  for  a  uniform  advance  of  ten  per  cent, 
in  all  departments. 

FREDERIC.  They  might  as  well  ask  for  one  hundred 
and  ten  per  cent.  [Laughing.]  You  and  I  agree  on  that 
subject,  at  least — and  M.  D'Or  is  not  likely  to  intercede 


I  Monsieur  D'Or  41 

for  them  if  he  is  as  fond  of  fat  dividends  as  his  respected 
grandfather  used  to  be! 

RAOUL.  We  need  not  fear  M.  D'Or.  It  is  probably 
idle  curiosity  that  brings  him  here.  [Voices  are  heard  in 
the  room,  left.  BERTINE  enters  excitedly,  followed  by 
D'OR,  who  is  dressed  in  fine  white  flannels,  with  gold- 
headed  cane,  gold  band  on  straw  hat,  several  conspicuous 
gold  rings  and  a  heavy  watch  fob.] 

BERTINE.  [Spluttering.']  M.  D'Or!  M.  Raoul  Leh- 
mann,  M.  Frederic  Lehmann !  [He  bows  himself  out.] 

D'OR.  {With  familiarity, .]  Ah,  gentlemen,  so  I  stand 
in  the  presence  of  Lehmann  Freres.  [They  shake  hands.] 
You  evidently  expected  me  to  enter  by  your  front  door 
[Points  back,  right.]  but  I  stole  a  march  on  you.  I  have 
been  inspecting  the  factory  for  the  past  two  hours. 

RAOUL.     [Surprised.]     Inspecting  the  factory! 

D'OR.  I  have  been  all  over  the  plant — it  is  truly  a 
model  establishment.  I  am  pleased  to  be  associated  in 
the  control  of  such  an  admirable  hive  of  industry.  You 
will  pardon  my  unconventional  way  of  learning  these 
things,  but  I  did  not  wish  to  be  bored  by  an  official  and 
perfunctory  inspection  starting  from  the  office.  I  there 
fore  took  matters  into  my  own  hands — and  starting  at  the 
bottom,  I  have  worked  my  way  to  the  intellectual  summit 
of  the  structure.  [He  looks  about  him.] 

FREDERIC.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  know  that  we  stood  this 
unusual  test  so  well,  M.  D'Or — but,  after  all,  the  house 
of  Lehmann  Freres  has  nothing  to  conceal — 

D'OR.  Evidently  not.  Your  product  is  of  the  highest 
grade  and  commands  the  best  markets;  your  people  work 
under  the  most  hygienic  conditions.  They  are  a  busy  mul- 


42  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

titude — those  hundreds  of  men  and  women  in  the  shops. 
By  the  way,  gentlemen,  I  observed  some  very  pretty  girls 
among  them — but  I  suppose  you  are  already  familiar  with 
that  fact. 

RAOUL.  [Coldly.]  Pardon  me,  M.  D'Or — my  brother 
and  I  are  hardly  in  a  position  to  admire  the  personal 
charms  of  our  employees.  We  are  both  married  men. 

D'OR.  Ah!  I  see — you  may  not  talk  freely  of  such 
things.  How  promptly  you  seem  to  suspect  that  I  was 
about  to  intimate  something  quite  shocking.  Charming 
girls,  just  the  same,  even  if  they  do  not  bask  in  the  sun 
shine  of  your  favor.  I  became  interested  in  one  of  the 
young  women  in  your  lace  department  and  stopped  for  a 
few  moments  to  question  her  about  her  work — a  Mile. 
Adrienne — Adrienne — [He  pulls  out  a  small  memorandum 
book.] 

FREDERIC.     Mile.  Courteaux. 

D'OR.  Thank  you — that  was  the  name.  I  was  amazed 
at  her  dexterity  and  the  rapidity  with  which  she  worked. 
It  was  fascinating;  yet  she  told  me  that  she  receives  only 
thirty-five  francs  a  week. 

RAOUL.  Did  she  say  only  thirty-five  francs?  She  is 
one  of  our  most  skilful  and  best-paid  operatives. 

D'OR.  No — I  supplied  the  only!  It  is  an  outrage — 
that  attractive  young  figure  bending  over  the  machine, 
those  well-shaped,  nimble  fingers  constantly  at  work — and 
a  miserable  five  and  thirty  francs  at  the  end  of  the  week! 
No  wonder  your  workers  are  complaining. 

FREDERIC.  But,  M.  D'Or,  we  pay  the  same  wages  as 
all  the  rest.  There  must  be  a  profit  in  the  business — a 
fair  return  for  the  large  capital  invested. 


I  Monsieur  D'Or  43 

D'OR.  I  wish  above  all  things  to  act  intelligently 
when  we  meet  their  delegation  this  afternoon — that  is  why 
I  chose  my  own  way  of  becoming  acquainted  with  the 
establishment.  Have  your  people  formulated  their  griev 
ances  ? 

FREDERIC.  [Taking  the  document  from  BERTINE'S 
desk.]  Yes,  here  is  their  petition  addressed  to  us.  We 
did  not  wish  to  be  subjected  to  their  oratory  at  the  con 
ference,  so  we  insisted  upon  a  preliminary  bill  of  complaint. 

D'OR.  [Scanning  the  sheets.']  H'm — in  view  of  the 
prosperous  times — plant  working  to  the  limit  of  its  capac 
ity — unprecedented  business — increased  rents — higher  cost 
of  living — we  request  a  general  increase  of  ten  per  cent. 
Why,  surely,  it  is  very  little  that  they  ask  ? 

RAOUL.  Do  you  realize  what  an  effect  it  will  have 
upon  our  dividends? 

FREDERIC.  Are  not  our  shareholders  entitled  to  first 
consideration  ? 

D'OR.  [Still  glancing  at  the  petition  and  not  heeding 
their  remarks.]  *  Respectfully  submitted,  Messrs.  Albert, 
Lorraine,  Fremiet;  Miles.  Celeste  Bergere,  Adrienne 
Courteaux' — well,  I  declare,  my  charming  friend  of  the 
lace-machine  is  to  be  one  of  your  delegation !  How  soon 
do  we  meet  them  ? 

RAOUL.  I  think  we  had  better  agree  upon  some  line 
of  action  before  we  invite  the  delegation  to  the  office.  We 
should  at  least  present  a  united  front. 

D'OR.  How  do  you  usually  act  in  such  an  industrial 
crisis  as  this? 

RAOUL.  Sometimes  we  find  it  necessary  to  make  a  par 
tial  concession — they  are  usually  crafty  enough  to  ask  for 


44  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

twice  what  they  expect  to  get.  Occasionally  we  can  win 
over  a  delegation  by  assuring  them  of  an  individual  raise 
in  wages  and  thus  send  them  back  to  their  associates  with 
a  discouraging  report. 

FREDERIC.  We  dare  not  tamper  with  the  present  dele 
gation — they  would  be  difficult  to  handle.  Their  leader, 
Albert,  is  a  quiet  fellow,  but  the  soul  of  honor.  [Looks 
over  the  petition.]  Lorraine  is  an  old  man,  generally 
esteemed  and  beloved  by  his  associates ;  Fremiet  is  a  rascally 
socialist,  a  constant  breeder  of  trouble.  [He  drops  the 
petition] 

D'OR.  [Picking  up  the  petition.'}  And  the  girls,  Miles. 
Celeste  and  Adrienne — what  lovely  names  they  have ! 

FREDERIC.  We  never  worry  about  the  women  in  such 
delegations.  They  are  easily  managed.  It  is  strange, 
Raoul,  that  just  those  two  should  have  been  chosen.  You 
should  know,  M.  D'Or,  that  Adrienne  Courteaux  is 
a  good,  highly  respected  girl,  who  is  supporting  her  wid 
owed  mother.  As  for  Mile.  Bergere — what  shall  I  say, 
Raoul? 

RAOUL.  [With  sarcasm]  I  hardly  know  how  she  will 
appeal  to  M.  D'Or's  fancy.  She  lacks  exactly  those 
virtues  and  qualities  that  strike  us  so  favorably  in  Mile. 
Courteaux. 

D'OR.  Well,  gentlemen,  I  see  that  you  know  some 
thing  after  all  about  the  young  women  of  your  establish 
ment,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  you  are  both  married  men 
— but,  seriously,  how  do  you  propose  to  answer  their 
request  for  an  advance? 

RAOUL.  There  is  but  one  answer  if  we  are  not  to 
reduce  our  dividends — the  request  must  be  refused. 


I  Monsieur  D'Or  45 

D'OR.  And  the  admirable  Mile.  Courteaux,  support 
ing  a  widowed  mother,  will  continue  to  get  only  thirty- 
five  francs  a  week? 

FREDERIC.  Her  case  seems  to  distress  you  most.  Do 
you  realize  that  even  with  the  increase  she  would  be  earn 
ing  less  than  forty  francs? 

D'OR.  True — I  hadn't  thought  that  it  meant  so  little 
— so  contemptibly  little.  Gentlemen,  I  propose  that  we 
grant  the  ten  per  cent,  increase  and  that  in  such  deserving 
cases  as  Mile.  Courteaux's  we  give  an  additional  incre 
ment. 

RAOUL.  [Leaping  to  his  feet.]  M.  D'Or,  pardon  me 
— but  what  you  propose  is  impossible!  Lehmann  Freres 
are  now  paying  the  maximum  wrage-scale.  We  cannot 
increase  wages  further  without  defying  an  established  eco 
nomic  law. 

D'OR.  M.  Lehmann,  the  economic  law  has  tyrannized 
over  us  long  enough — it  must  be  taught  a  wholesome 
respect  for  the  power  of  gold.  Of  what  value  is  wealth 
if  it  cannot  crush  so  immaterial  a  thing  as  an  economic 
law? 

RAOUL.  If  you  have  no  regard  for  your  own  interests, 
you  should  at  least  respect  the  investment  of  the  other 
shareholders. 

D'OR.     Who  are  the  other  shareholders? 

RAOUL.  You  hold  some  forty  per  cent,  from  your 
grandfather's  estate  together  with  recent  additions;  my 
brother  and  I  jointly  own — [A  pause.']  about  half  of  the 
stock  or  a  little  over.  That  leaves  about  six  or  eight  per 
cent,  in  small  scattered  holdings.  [FREDERIC  looks  anx 
iously  at  D'OR.] 


46  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

D'OR.  [With  a  sinister  expression,  drawing  a  bundle 
of  certificates  from  his  pocket.]  M.  Lehmann,  you  and 
your  brother  own  forty-five  per  cent,  or  less!  The  so- 
called  scattered  holdings  are  not  six  or  eight  per  cent. — 
here  are  at  least  fifteen  per  cent. — you  will  observe  that 
each  certificate  is  endorsed  in  my  favor. 

FREDERIC.  [Leaping  up.']  Then  you  actually  own  a 
majority  of  the  stock?  [RAOUL  buries  his  face  in  his 
hands  and  groans.] 

D'OR.  Yes.  The  Blausteins  at  Paris  have  been  quietly 
obtaining  this  little  block  of  Lehmann  Freres  for  me. 
Gentlemen,  I  was  surprised  to  learn  that  you  had  per 
mitted  the  control  to  escape  you. 

RAOUL.  [Walking  excitedly.]  Why  should  the  dele 
gation  consult  with  us,  Frederic?  M.  D'Or  now  domi 
nates  the  situation — why  prolong  the  agony? 

D'OR.  You  should  not  be  so  bitter,  M.  Lehmann, 
because  the  sins  of  your  own  negligence  have  found  you 
out.  Your  lie  a  moment  ago  is  pardonable.  I  recognize 
your  talents — you  have  maintained  and  advanced  a  great 
industry  established  by  your  father.  I  hope  you  will  con 
tinue  to  direct  the  interests  of  Lehmann  Freres.  I  simply 
wish  to  act  as  spokesman  in  the  conference  with  your  dele 
gation — I  may  say  our  delegation  of  workers. 

RAOUL.  Why  ask  of  us  a  favor  that  we  have  no  power 
to  withhold  ?  Complete  your  triumph !  We  are  in  your 
hands !  [D'OR  glances  for  a  moment  at  the  angry  RAOUL, 
then  turns  to  FREDERIC.] 

D'OR.     Kindly  summon  the  committee! 

FREDERIC.  [Rings.  BERTINE  enters,  left.]  M.  Bertine, 
please  ask  the  delegation  to  come  at  once.  [BERTINE  goes 


I  Monsieur  D'Or  47 

out,  rear  left.  FREDERIC  crosses  over  to  RAOUL,  who 
seems  crushed  and  helpless.  He  tries  to  encourage  RAOUL.] 

D'OR.  [Looking  at  portrait,  after  a  pause.~]  Your 
father's  portrait,  I  presume? 

RAOUL.    Thank  Heaven,  he  did  not  live  to  see  this  day ! 

D'OR.  [Drily.]  If  he  had  lived  there  would  have 
been  no  such  day — at  least,  it  would  not  have  disturbed 
his  equanimity. 

FREDERIC.  [Comforting  RAOUL.]  Do  not  reply,  Raoul. 
Let  us  at  least  preserve  appearances  before  our  employees. 
[Enter,  rear  left,  BERTINE,  followed  by  ALBERT,  then 
CELESTE  and  ADRIENNE,  finally  LORRAINE  and  FREMIET. 
Throughout  this  scene  RAOUL  labors  under  suppressed 
excitement;  FREDERIC  is  more  composed] 

FREDERIC.  M.  D'Or,  this  is  the  delegation  of  our 
workpeople  who  have  arranged  for  to-day's  conference. 
May  I  say  to  the  committee  that  we  are  honored  in  having 
with  us  M.  D'Or,  who  has  a  large  interest  in  Lehmann 
Freres  and  wishes  to  participate  in  our  deliberation. 

D'OR.     I  should  like  to  meet  the  delegates  individually. 

FREDERIC.     [Indicating]     M.  Albert  is  their  leader. 

D'OR.  [Shaking  hands]  M.  Albert,  I  am  glad  to 
grasp  the  hand  of  a  man  who  has  the  mark  of  leadership 
in  his  personality.  [Pointing  to  the  petition]  Is  this  peti 
tion  your  work  ? 

ALBERT.  [Modestly]  Only  partly,  monsieur.  The 
committee  worked  on  it  as  a  body. 

D'OR.  It  is  a  masterful  summary.  I  congratulate 
you !  [ALBERT  bows  with  a  look  of  gratification  and  steps 
aside] 

FREDERIC.  [Introducing  LORRAINE.]  Our  oldest  worker, 
M.  Lorraine. 


48  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

D'OR.  The  oldest  worker !  Most  interesting!  How 
long  have  you  been  associated  with  the  company? 

LORRAINE.  I  was  twenty  when  the  honored  father 
[Points  to  the  portrait.]  of  Messrs.  Lehmann  first  engaged 
me — and  I've  been  here  ever  since.  I  have  two  sons  and 
five  grandsons  here  now.  I  am  seventy-three  years  old. 

D'OR.  [Astonished.]  Fifty-three  years  of  faithful  ser 
vice — and  you  are  still  among  the  workers!  How  is  it 
that  you  have  not  risen  to  prosperity  in  that  time? 

LORRAINE.  [Without  bitterness.]  We  cannot  all  hope 
to  reach  the  top.  Some  of  us  have  not  the  brains — and 
others  have  not  the  chance.  I  have  always  been  a  sober 
and  industrious  man,  but  the  pay  is  not  large.  I  do  not 
complain,  however — I  have  always  been  treated  well. 

D'OR.  It  is  unjust — rankly  unjust!  [He  turns  to 
FREMIET.]  And  our  third  delegate? 

FREDERIC.     [Curtly.]     M.  Fremiet. 

D'OR.     Ah !     I  recall — the  anarchist ! 

FREMIET.     Pardon  me,  I  am  a  socialist. 

D'OR.  Is  there  any  difference?  [FREMIET'S  look  is 
contemptuous.]  I  am  quite  unfamiliar  with  your  nice 
distinctions  of  political  or  economic  creed.  I  dare  say  you 
regard  yourself  as  a  very  badly  used  person  ? 

FREMIET.  Yes.  Every  worker  is  badly  used.  He  does 
not  get  his  share  of  the  wealth  that  he  creates  by  the  sweat 
of  his  brow. 

D'OR.  I  suppose  you  believe  that  all  men  are  created 
equal  ? 

FREMIET.     They  are  not — they  should  be. 

D'OR.  Ah!  So  you  actually  have  a  grudge  against 
Nature  in  the  first  instance.  How  unhappy  you  must  be ! 


I  Monsieur  D'Or  49 

At  any  rate  you  believe  in  social  equality.  Let  me  test 
your  faith.  You  are  a  workman,  laboring  faithfully 
week  after  week  at  the  plant  of  Lehmann  Freres;  I  am  a 
gentleman  of  leisure,  living  idly  on  an  inherited  income. 
Do  you  believe  that  any  social  upheaval  can  ever  make  me 
your  equal? 

FREMIET.  [Misunderstanding.]  I  regard  myself  as 
any  man's  equal,  poor  and  crushed  as  I  am.  It  is  a  cruel 
social  tyranny  that  keeps  us  down. 

D'OR.  Pardon  me,  my  friend — you  did  not  listen  care 
fully.  I  asked  whether  you  believed  that  any  social  up 
heaval  could  make  me  your  equal. 

FREMIET.  You  are  mocking  me,  M.  D'Or.  In  your 
heart  you  know  that  you  are  my  superior — my  superior  in 
everything  that  is  most  desirable  in  this  world.  You  live 
your  life  according  to  the  dictates  of  your  own  fancy,  you 
call  no  man  master,  the  pleasures  of  the  world  are  at  your 
beck.  Why  should  you  seek  to  torture  me  and  these  others 
on  the  rack? 

D'OR.  [  Turning  to  the  LEHMANNS.]  Really,  I  had  no 
idea  that  my  visit  was  to  be  so  interesting !  [  To  FREMIET.] 
M.  Fremiet,  you  are  something  better  than  a  socialist — 
you  are  a  poet.  Instead  of  working  at  the  lace-machines 
you  should  capitalize  your  thoughts.  You  would  soon 
attract  sufficient  attention  to  make  you  rich  and  famous — 
and  incidentally  to  drive  every  vestige  of  socialism  out  of 
your  system.  [FREMIET  bows  with  evident  pleasure.] 

FREDERIC.     [Introducing  CELESTE.]     Mile.  Bergere. 

CELESTE.     [With  a  curtsy,  archly. ]     Celeste  Bergere. 

D'OR.  [Bowing.']  Mademoiselle,  I  am  particularly 
4 


50  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

interested  in  the  welfare  of  the  young  women  in  our  work 
rooms.  In  which  department  are  you? 

CELESTE.     I  assist  in  sorting  and  packing  embroideries. 

D'OR.     And  what  is  your  pay  for  this  service? 

CELESTE.     Twenty  francs  a  week. 

D'OR.  Twenty  francs!  How  can  one  live  on  such 
wages  ? 

CELESTE.  [With  a  deliberate  look  at  the  LEHMANNS.] 
One  cannot — and  very  few  make  the  effort.  [The  LEH 
MANNS  are  astounded  and  annoyed  at  her  audacity;  the 
men  of  the  delegation  seem  uneasy;  ADRIENNE  draws  away 
from  CELESTE.] 

D'OR.  [With  sympathy.']  Pardon  me  for  asking  that 
question.  I  might  have  anticipated  the  answer.  Of  course, 
a  girl  living  at  home  with  her  family  is  under  less  expense — 

FREMIET.  [Starting  forward.]  How  about  the  rest? 
It  means  ruin  for  the  rest ! 

FREDERIC.  [Waving  FREMIET  back  and  introducing 
ADRIENNE.]  I  believe  you  have  met  Mile.  Courteaux. 

D'OR.  [Graciously.']  Yes,  I  met  Mile.  Courteaux  in 
the  lace  department.  Your  pay  is  thirty-five  francs  a  week 
— it  is  inadequate,  I  know. 

ADRIENNE.  It  would  not  be  so  bad  if  it  were  not  for 
the  doctor  and  for  the  medicines  that  my  mother  needs. 

D'OR.     You  are  your  mother's  sole  support? 

ADRIENNE.  Yes.  [D'OR  looks  at  her  in  mingled  admi 
ration  and  pity] 

FREDERIC.  Mile.  Courteaux  receives  high  pay  as  the 
schedule  is  arranged.  There  are  hundreds  who  receive 
far  less. 

D'OR.     Heaven  help  the  hundreds — and  the  thousands 


I  Monsieur  D'Or  51 

of  their  kind  elsewhere.  [  To  ADRIENNE.]  Are  you  happy 
at  your  work? 

ADRIENNE.  Yes;  it  is  not  difficult — one  soon  acquires 
the  necessary  skill. 

D'OR.  But  you  are  surely  looking  forward  to  some 
thing  better — something  less  monotonous  than  a  lace- 
machine  ! 

ALBERT.  I  hope  some  day  to  make  Mile.  Courteaux 
my  wife. 

D'OR.     Some  day? 

ALBERT.  Yes.  As  soon  as  my  pay  is  sufficient  to  keep 
us  both. 

D'OR.  [Looks  at  ALBERT,  then  ADRIENNE.]  This, 
too!  Another  tyranny  of  our  industrial  system !  [Turns 
to  FREDERIC.]  Can  Lehmann  Freres  afford  to  be  acces 
sories  to  such  hardships? 

FREDERIC.  [Coldly. ]  It  is  distressing,  of  course — but 
we  surely  cannot  undertake  to  reform  society  and  bring 
about  universal  happiness. 

RAOUL.  [Stepping  forward.]  May  I  remind  M.  D'Or 
that  we  have  summoned  this  delegation  to  discuss  the 
wage-scale?  We  can  hardly  reach  any  conclusion  by 
considering  the  individual  cases  before  us. 

D'OR.  [With  suppressed  anger.]  Thank  you  for  re 
minding  me,  M.  Lehmann.  I  have  made  the  mistake  of 
regarding  our  delegation  as  a  group  of  human  beings. 
[He  seats  himself  between  the  LEHMANNS.]  Let  us 
settle  down  to  business.  I  take  it  for  granted  we  are  all 
familiar  with  the  contents  of  this  petition — i.t  sums  up  the 
situation  aptly — unless  our  friend  Fremiet  wishes  to  make 
a  speech  ? 


52  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

FREMIET.  I  have  no  speech  to  make,  M.  D'Or.  I 
have  been  listening  attentively  to  you — you  are  a  fair- 
minded  man.  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  leave  our  griev 
ances  in  your  hands.  [D'OR  is  visibly  flattered.} 

D'OR.  Very  well.  [To  RAOUL.]  Now,  M.  Leh- 
mann,  you  are  the  head  of  this  great  establishment — for 
years  you  have  directed  it  ably  and  profitably.  What  do 
you  suggest  ? 

RAOUL.  [Looking  keenly  at  D'OR.]  Are  you  asking 
for  my  opinion  ? 

D'OR.    Certainly.    Can  we  do  anything  for  our  people  ? 

RAOUL.  [Speaking  cautiously.']  Perhaps  what  I  say 
may  appear  unsympathetic — but  I  have  always  proceeded 
on  the  assumption  that  the  shareholders  deserve  first  con 
sideration  in  the  distribution  of  earnings.  Our  relation 
with  our  workers  is  in  the  nature  of  a  personal  contract — 
we  offer  a  certain  wage  and  they  are  free  to  refuse  it  and 
stay  out  of  our  employ  if  they  so  desire. 

D'OR.  That  is  sufficiently  blunt  to  be  understood  by 
any  one — and  it's  also  quite  orthodox,  I  believe;  but  let 
us  drop  abstractions.  Can  we  afford  the  requested  in 
crease  in  wages? 

RAOUL.  [Feeling  his  way.~\  I  wish  to  do  the  fair 
thing — but  before  all  else  I  must  advise  the  safe  course. 
Our  reports  show  clearly  that  a  ten  per  cent,  increase  in 
all  departments  would  ruin  the  concern.  Perhaps  we 
might  compromise  on  a  five  per  cent,  advance  and  try  it 
for — say  six  months,  without  committing  ourselves  to  con 
tinue  it  beyond  that  term  unless  our  earnings  justify — 

D'OR.  [Impatiently.]  Nonsense,  M.  Lehmann;  you 
would  offer  Mile.  Bergere  an  extra  franc  per  week,  the 


I  Monsieur  D'Or  53 

others  perhaps  two  francs  or  less — do  you  imagine  that 
you  have  solved  the  problem?  I  propose  that  we  try  the 
ten  per  cent,  increase  and  give  it  a  fair  test. 

CELESTE.  [Eagerly.]  Oh!  M.  D'Or,  you  are  our 
good  angel! 

D'OR.  [Flattered.]  What  is  more,  I  propose  to  learn 
the  circumstances  of  every  girl  who  works  in  this  plant, 
and  wherever  conditions  warrant  it,  I  shall  recommend 
an  increase  of  twenty  per  cent,  or  even  more — 

FREDERIC.    It  is  impossible !    We  shall  face  bankruptcy ! 

D'OR.     We  might  try  it,  at  any  rate. 

RAOUL.     [Fiercely.]    Your  plan  cannot  succeed. 

D'OR.  [Ominously.]  None  the  less  I  ask  you — shall 
we  try  it  ? 

RAOUL.  [After  a  struggle.]  Yes,  if  you  insist !  [The 
workers  are  astounded.] 

D'OR.     [To  FREDERIC,  blandly.]     Do  you  also  agree? 

FREDERIC.    Yes.    Do  whatever  you  think  best ! 

D'OR.  [To  the  delegation.]  Your  petition  is  favor 
ably  considered  and  you  may  report  to  your  associates  that 
an  increase  of  ten  per  cent,  in  all  wages  goes  into  effect 
immediately.  [The  delegates  are  delighted;  D'OR  pays 
no  attention  to  the  rest,  but  gazes  at  ADRIENNE.] 

ALBERT.  [Kissing  D'OR's  hand.]  You  are  a  friend  of 
humanity,  M.  D'Or! 

LORRAINE.  [With  choking  voice.]  I  speak  for  my 
sons  and  grandsons  when  I  say,  *  Heaven  bless  you ! '  You 
have  brought  joy  into  our  lives. 

FREMIET.  If  all  employers  were  like  you,  monsieur,  I 
would  stay  away  from  our  socialistic  meetings. 


54  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

CELESTE.  [Boldly.']  M.  D'Or,  Adrienne  and  I  also 
wish  to  thank  you,  do  we  not?  [ADRIENNE  stands  with 
bowed  head  beside  her.~]  You  have  made  us  so  happy! 
You  will  be  a  hero  henceforth  in  the  eyes  of  us  all.  [She 
turns  to  ADRIENNE,  expecting  her  to  say  something.] 

D'OR.  And  what  do  you  say,  Mile.  Courteaux? 
[ADRIENNE  raises  her  head  and  looks  fixedly  at  D'OR  for 
several  moments  of  tense  silence;  then  with  a  sob  she 
bursts  into  tears.] 

ALBERT.  [Hastening  to  her.~\  The  truest  tribute  of 
all,  M.  D'Or!  The  tribute  of  tears! 

RAOUL.  [Curtly. ~\  The  conference  being  over,  you 
may  return  to  your  work.  [The  delegates  pass  out  at  the 
rear  left.~\  M.  Bertine,  you  will  at  once  post  a  notice  in 
the  shops  announcing  the  increase  in  wages.  [BERTINE 
goes  off,  left.  RAOUL'S  demeanor  changes  completely.] 
M.  D'Or,  in  my  whole  life  I  have  never  experienced  such 
a  sense  of  humiliation,  of  utter  degradation  as  in  the  last 
half  hour.  What  a  terrible  man  you  are!  How  could 
you  trample  us  so  ruthlessly  under  foot — and  before  our 
workpeople — treating  us  like  a  pair  of  impotent  puppets! 

D'OR.  [Coolly.]  I  like  to  feel  the  power  of  my  wealth. 
You  have  had  the  same  experience  in  dealing  with  your 
workers. 

RAOUL.  Why  don't  you  exercise  your  power  over 
them?  It  is  easier  and  cheaper. 

D'OR.  They  know  the  power  of  wealth — they  need 
no  further  demonstration.  The  war  of  wealth  against 
wealth  is  more  to  my  taste  at  present.  Besides,  gentle 
men,  it  is  cleaner  sport. 

FREDERIC.  Don't  you  realize  that  as  the  majority  stock 
holder  you  must  pay  the  lion's  share  of  the  bill  ? 


I  Monsieur  D'Or  55 

D'OR.  Yes,  but  it's  worth  whatever  it  costs  to  see 
such  a  precious  pair  as  you  brought  to  terms.  I  am  sat 
isfied  with  the  reward  that  my  generosity  will  bring.  By 
nightfall  I  shall  be  heralded  through  the  town  as  the  kind 
friend  of  the  downtrodden  workers — 

RAOUL.  [Bitterly.]  And  Lehmann  Freres  will  lose 
thirty  to  forty  thousand  francs  a  year! 

D'OR.  Of  which  nearly  one  half  will  fall  upon  you 
and  your  brother. 

RAOUL.  You  forget,  M.  D'Or — there  is  still  one  re 
source.  It  would  not  be  difficult  to  prove  in  any  court 
of  law  that  you  are  an  irresponsible  person.  When  a 
man,  in  order  to  gratify  a  passing  whim,  seeks  to  disturb 
the  economic  balance — 

D'OR.  [With  a  sneer.]  Economic  balance !  I  like  that 
phrase !  On  the  one  hand,  our  wealth,  securely  entrenched 
with  all  its  vast  unlimited  influence;  on  the  other,  the 
hands  and  brains  of  the  numerous  wretches  whom  we  call 
our  employees.  Economic  balance,  indeed! 

FREDERIC.  M.  D'Or,  we  shall  not  be  ruined  without 
a  struggle.  This  industry  has  been  fostered  through  two 
generations  of  growth  and  development.  We  take  pride 
in  it — 

D'OR.  Let  us  stop  quarreling,  gentlemen — I  have 
heard  enough  in  this  strain.  At  what  figure  do  you  esti 
mate  your  holdings  in  Lehmann  Freres  ? 

RAOUL.  [Interrupting  FREDERIC.]  This  morning  our 
joint  holdings  were  worth  six  hundred  thousand  francs — 
Heaven  knows  what  they  are  worth  now,  with  you  in  the 
saddle! 

D'OR.      [Deliberately. ]     Then  I  presume  the  easiest 


56  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

way  for  me  to  restore  peace  and  to  avoid  a  commission  in 
lunacy  would  be  to  pay  you — let  us  say  eight  hundred 
thousand  francs? 

RAOUL.     What  do  you  mean ?     To  buy  us  out? 

D'OR.  [Toying  with  the  petition .]  Yes — for  eight 
hundred  thousand  francs. 

FREDERIC.     On  what  terms? 

D'OR.  A  sight  draft  on  the  Blausteins  at  Paris.  [A 
frantic  discussion  between  the  brothers,  which  evokes  a 
smile  from  D'OR.] 

RAOUL.     [Finally.']    We  accept  your  offer! 

D'OR.  Are  you  no  longer  afraid  that  I  am  a  desperate 
madman?  Are  you  sure  that  a  man  who  disturbs  the 
economic  balance  can  legally  transact  business?  Would 
not  the  sale  of  your  holdings  at  such  an  outrageous  over 
valuation  be  liable  to  attack  in  your  courts? 

RAOUL.  [Suavely.]  Not  unless  you  or  your  friends 
should  proceed.  You  made  the  offer  yourself — we  are  not 
likely  to  test  your  sanity  after  the  draft  is  honored. 

D'OR.  Gentlemen,  I  see  you  are  not  without  a  sense 
of  humor.  Kindly  draw  up  a  formal  agreement — the 
actual  transfer  of  the  property  can  be  effected  to-morrow. 
[RAOUL  prepares  an  agreement.'}  You  can  make  imme 
diate  delivery,  I  presume? 

FREDERIC.  Yes.  There  is  nothing  to  prevent  you  from 
taking  absolute  possession  of  the  entire  establishment  at 
once.  You  will  henceforth  be  able  to  follow  the  dictates 
of  your  own  fancy  in  administering  the  affairs  of  the  com 
pany.  Would  it  be  an  impertinence  to  wish  you  success 
in  your  venture? 

D'OR.  I  fear  it  would  be,  in  the  face  of  your  convic 
tion  that  I  am  doomed  to  inevitable  failure. 


I  Monsieur  D'Or  57 

FREDERIC.     You  are  trying  to  do  the  impossible! 

D'OR.  The  impossible  is  the  only  thing  worth  doing 
nowadays.  [RAOUL  shows  the  agreement  to  FREDERIC.] 

FREDERIC.     [Handing  it  to  D'OR.]    Very  good ! 

D'OR.  [Returning  it  to  RAOUL.]  Quite  proper — and 
to  the  point.  [RAOUL  rings  for  BERTINE,  who  enters, 
left.] 

RAOUL.  M.  Bertine,  kindly  let  us  have  three  copies 
of  this  agreement  at  once.  [BERTINE  takes  the  paper, 
glances  at  its  contents  and  utters  an  involuntary  cry.] 

RAOUL.     [Severely.]     Have  you  forgotten  yourself? 

BERTINE.  [Confused.]  I — I  beg  your  pardon,  gentle 
men.  [He  glances  from  one  to  another,  looks  at  D'OR  as 
at  an  apparition  and  goes  out  awkwardly.] 

D'OR.  [Sympathetically.]  Poor  fellow!  How  hard 
he  takes  it!  Gentlemen,  I  confess  that  I  looked  for  a 
possible  word  of  sentiment  from  you — a  desire  to  remain 
identified  with  the  great  business  that  your  father  had 
established  and  had  developed  to  its  present  importance.  I 
was  even  prepared  to  bid  higher  in  case  my  first  offer  was 
not  accepted — [The  brothers  look  at  him  in  mingled  anger 
and  covetousness.]  but  the  sum  seems  to  have  satisfied  your 
cupidity.  However,  I  have  an  appeal  to  make.  I  do  not 
wish  to  undertake  the  administration  of  this  great  industry 
— I  know  nothing  about  it.  Do  you  care  to  remain  here 
in  your  present  executive  capacity  ?  I  know  we  can  agree 
upon  terms. 

RAOUL.  Events  have  crowded  each  other  so  quickly 
that  neither  of  us  has  any  plans  for  the  future.  We  shall 
be  willing  to  stay — for  a  time  at  least,  eh,  Frederic? 

FREDERIC.     Assuredly.     I,   for  one,  am   interested  to 


58  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

know  how  M.  D'Or's  experiment  is  going  to  work  out. 
Such  audacity  affords  an  enlightening  spectacle  to  the  busi 
ness  man  of  normal  training. 

D'OR.  Thank  you,  gentlemen,  I  shall  appreciate  your 
co-operation.  Such  a  business  requires  a  certain  amount 
of  personal  shrewdness  and  finesse  with  which  you  are  evi 
dently  well  equipped.  [BERTINE  enters  with  the  papers, 
hands  them  to  RAOUL  and  goes  off,  left.  RAOUL  signs 
each  copy,  hands  them  to  FREDERIC,  the  latter  signs  and 
passes  them  to  D'OR.] 

D'OR.  [Signing  the  last  copy.]  There  we  are!  [Each 
takes  a  copy.]  That  settles  the  formal  transfer — the  details 
can  go  over  till  to-morrow.  Is  there  anything  further, 
gentlemen  ? 

RAOUL.  [Somewhat  excited,  puts  his  hand  to  his  brow] 
I — I  do  not  feel  altogether  well.  The  excitement  of  the 
past  hour  is  playing  havoc  with  my  brain!  I  had  better 
go  home — 

FREDERIC.     My  dear  Raoul — you  are  not  ill,  I  hope  ? 

RAOUL.  You  had  better  take  me  home.  [They  get 
their  hats  and  gloves]  M.  D'Or,  I  wonder  whether  you 
are  not  a  demon — or  an  apparition  of  some  evil  dream ! 

D'OR.  Have  no  fear,  M.  Lehmann.  You  will  find 
my  draft  on  the  Blausteins  a  very  reliable  piece  of  paper — 
in  exchange  for  which  I  am  to  receive  [Throwing  out  his 
arms]  all  this! 

RAOUL.  [In  agony]  Ah!  this  is  terrible!  [He  goes 
out,  rear  right,  followed  by  FREDERIC.  D'OR  looks  after 
them  with  a  laugh,  jingles  the  gold  in  his  pocket  and  rings 
for  BERTINE  who  enters,  left.  As  it  is  growing  dark, 
BERTINE  turns  on  the  electric  lamp  on  the  table] 

D'OR.     M.  Bertine,  at  what  time  does  work  cease? 


I  Monsieur  D'Or  59 

BERTINE.  [Consults  his  watch.]  In  twenty  minutes, 
monsieur. 

D'OR.  Will  you  kindly  ask  Mile.  Courteaux  to  come 
to  the  office  before  she  leaves  ?  You  may  tell  her  to  come 
at  once. 

BERTINE.  Very  well,  monsieur.  [He  goes  off,  rear 
left.  D'OR  takes  the  agreement  from  his  pocket  and 
laughs  over  it.  He  looks  over  other  papers  on  the  desk 
with  deprecatory  gestures.  For  a  few  moments  he  gazes 
at  the  portrait  of  Lehmann  senior.  ADRIENNE  enters, 
rear  left,  followed  by  BERTINE.] 

BERTINE.     Anything  further,  monsieur? 

D'OR.  Not  at  present.  [Exit  BERTINE,  left.  ADRIENNE 
stands  looking  steadily  at  D'OR.]  Mile.  Courteaux,  you 
doubtless  wonder  why  I  sent  for  you? 

ADRIENNE.     [Simply.']     No,  I  am  not  wondering. 

D'OR.  But  you  surely  cannot  know?  You  see,  I — 
that  is,  I  was  so  much  distressed  when  I  heard  of  your 
sick  mother  that  I  desire  to  learn  if  I  can  do  anything  for 
her — perhaps  a  better  doctor,  or  a  trip  to  the  mountains. 
I  am  much  interested  in  her  welfare. 

ADRIENNE.  [Coolly.]  M.  D'Or,  it  is  impossible  for 
me  to  believe  that  you  are  at  all  concerned  about  my 
mother. 

D'OR.  You  might  at  least  credit  me  with  good  inten 
tions  towards  her.  There  was  another  reason  for  my 
summoning  you.  When  I  announced  the  increase  in 
wages  to  the  delegation,  the  others  were  profuse  in  their 
thanks.  You  said  nothing — you  burst  into  tears. 

ADRIENNE.     The  rest  believed  you  meant  well  by  them. 

D'OR.     And  you? 

ADRIENNE.    [After  a  pause. ,]    I  knew  better. 


60  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

D'OR.  [With  a  look  of  admiration.]  You  are  entirely 
too  bright  a  girl  to  pass  your  best  years  in  a  factory.  This 
morning  I  recognized  your  beauty  and  your  charm  of 
manner — now  I  learn  that  you  are  clever  as  well. 

ADRIENNE.     What  next,  M.  D'Or? 

D'OR.  How  did  the  shops  receive  the  news  of  the 
increase  ? 

ADRIENNE.     The  workers  went  almost  wild  with  joy. 

D'OR.  And  you  alone  find  a  sinister  motive  in  what 
I  did? 

ADRIENNE.     Am  I  wrong? 

D'OR.  [With  apparent  wounded  dignity.]  You  are 
doing  me  a  great  injustice — I  want  you  to  regard  me  as  a 
friend.  I  shall  be  perfectly  frank  with  you.  When  I 
arrived  here  I  had  no  intention  of  playing  the  philanthro 
pist  as  I  did  a  few  moments  ago.  I  would  have  supported 
the  Lehmanns  and  there  would  have  been  no  increase — not 
a  franc  for  anyone — if  I  had  not  seen  you  at  work. 

ADRIENNE.  All  this  would  be  very  complimentary, 
monsieur,  if  I  could  ignore  the  rest  of  your  frankness. 

D'OR.  When  I  urged  the  increase  in  wages  it  was  to 
please  you — you  alone.  I  did  not  care  a  whit  about  the 
others — and  the  Lehmanns  had  to  dance  as  I  fiddled ! 

ADRIENNE.  That  was  evident.  I  felt  very  sorry  for 
them. 

D'OR.  Then  you  don't  think  better  of  me  for  what  I 
have  done  ? 

ADRIENNE.  How  can  you  expect  any  one  who  reads 
your  motives  to  think  well  of  you? 

D'OR.  Of  course,  the  increase  was  only  a  trifle  for 
you  after  all !  But  suppose  you  could  get  away  from  the 


I  Monsieur  D'Or  61 

lace-machine  altogether,  could  live  well,  dress  well  and 
enjoy  life  in  a  way  worthy  of  your  beauty — would  that 
make  any  difference? 

ADRIENNE.  M.  D'Or,  why  do  you  find  it  necessary  to 
insult  me? 

D'OR.     Perhaps  you  care  for  that  fellow  Albert  ? 

ADRIENNE.    [Quietly.]    No. 

D'OR.     Is  there  any  one  else? 

ADRIENNE.     No. 

D'OR.  [More  eagerly.]  I  wouldn't  use  that  word 
'  insult '  if  I  were  you.  I  am  offering  to  take  you  out  of 
a  life  of  drudgery  into  one  of  comfort  and  affluence,  to 
put  the  luxuries  of  the  world  at  your  disposal,  to  give  you 
the  one  talisman  to  the  real  joy  of  living. 

ADRIENNE.     And  that  is — 

D'OR.  [Drawing  out  a  handful  of  gold  coin  and  talk 
ing  hysterically.]  Gold!  Gold!  Unlimited  gold!  The 
faithful  slave  that  brings  me  whatever  I  desire.  The 
power  that  sent  the  Lehmanns  slinking  out  of  this  room 
a  few  minutes  ago  like  a  pair  of  whipped  curs!  The 
power  that  has  placed  the  entire  establishment  of  Lehmann 
Freres  in  my  hands.  I  own  it  all — all,  Adrienne! 

ADRIENNE.  And  you  are  the  man  who  is  now  being 
proclaimed  throughout  the  town  as  the  champion  of  the 
poor  man,  the  friend  of  the  oppressed  woman — you,  who 
seek  to  control  only  that  you  may  corrupt ! 

D'OR.  [Nettled.]  How  dare  you  speak  thus  to  me? 
You  forget  that  I  am  your  employer ! 

ADRIENNE.  That  you  are  not.  You  have  made  it 
impossible  for  me  to  earn  my  living  here.  [She  moves 
toward  the  door,  rear  left.]  Even  if  you  do  own  Lehmann 


62  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

Freres,  you  might  at  least  spare  to  your  workers  their  own 
souls.  You  call  gold  your  faithful  slave;  be  careful  that 
your  slave  does  not  master  you  in  the  end!  [She  passes 
out  quickly.  D'OR  stares  after  her  and  throws  the  coins 
on  the  table.  He  laughs  nervously  as  he  looks  about, 
especially  at  the  portrait  of  Lehmann  senior.  He  picks 
up  the  petition,  pulls  out  the  agreement,  and  after  some 
moments  of  indecision  goes  to  the  telephone.} 

D'OR.  [Looks  up  the  number  in  the  telephone  book.] 
7 — i — 4  please.  .  .  .  Hello.  .  .  .  Yes.  ...  Is  that  the 
home  of  M.  Raoul  Lehmann  ?  .  .  .  M.  Lehmann  himself  ? 
This  is  M.  D'Or,  at  the  office.  .  .  .  Yes.  ...  I  have 
changed  my  mind  about  purchasing  your  interest  and  your 
brother's.  .  .  .  Yes,  I  prefer  to  restore  the  plant  into  your 
hands.  .  .  .  Yes,  a  majority  of  the  stock  as  well  as  a  bonus 
for  cancelling  the  deal.  ...  I  know  you  won't  lose  con 
trol  of  it  again.  .  .  .  Yes.  .  .  .  I'm  sorry  I  treated  you 
and  your  brother  so  roughly  to-day.  .  .  .  Why  am  I  giving 
it  up?  Well,  I've  already  had  enough  of  it.  Besides, 
your  father's  portrait  makes  me  nervous.  I  wouldn't 
care  to  take  it  down — and  I  don't  dare  to  look  at  it.  ... 
What's  that?  .  .  .  You  accept?  Good!  .  .  .  Will  you 
inform  your  brother?  .  .  .  Very  well,  in  the  morning  at 
ten!  Are  you  feeling  better?  ...  I  am  glad  to  hear  it. 
.  .  .  Good-by.  [He  goes  over  to  the  table  and  slowly 
picks  up  the  coins.}  To-day  you  played  me  a  very  shabby 
trick!  [He  pockets  the  gold,  puts  on  his  hat,  takes  his 
cane  and  is  about  to  leave  when  he  again  notices  the  por 
trait.  He  goes  directly  to  it,  takes  off  his  hat  with  a 
bow  and  addresses  the  picture.']  M.  Lehmann,  I  have  the 
honor  to  bid  you  farewell!  [With  a  laugh  he  goes  out  at 
the  rear  right  entrance  as  the  curtain  falls.'] 


SCENE  II 

[The  music  salon  of  the  Chateau  D'Or.  A  handsome 
room,  most  luxuriously  furnished  in  white  and  gold.  The 
grand  piano  at  the  left  is  also  finished  in  white  and  gold. 
The  central  entrance  leads  to  a  wide  corridor  which  runs 
parallel  with  the  room.  The  furniture  and  hangings  are 
over-ornate,  showing  plainly  the  triumph  of  wealth  over 
good  taste  in  their  selection.  The  guests  of  M.  D'OR  are 
seated  about  the  room  in  fashionable  morning  toilettes. 
On  a  sofa  right  are  seated  MME.  CYPRIENNE  DACIER  and 
MME.  LUCETTE  CLARY.  Before  the  curtain  rises,  the 
Prelude  in  C  sharp  minor  by  Sergei  Rachmaninoff  is  played 
at  the  piano.  As  it  concludes,  the  curtain  rises  and  HENRI 
VAUX  is  seen  standing  at  the  piano,  bowing  to  the  applause 
of  the  assembled  guests.  (If  practicable,  the  curtain  might 
rise  before  VAUX  has  completed  his  solo.)  As  the  scene 
begins,  the  anonymous  guests  chat  in  groups.] 

LUCETTE.  Bravo,  M.  Vaux!  You  played  that  pre 
lude  beautifully. 

VAUX.  Thank  you,  Mme.  Clary.  It  is  a  favorite  of 
mine,  but  perhaps  a  bit  too  depressing  for  such  a  pleasant 
occasion  as  this. 

LUCETTE.  Not  at  all.  We  must  remember  that  there 
is  a  serious  side  to  life — don't  you  think  so,  Cyprienne  ? 

CYPRIENNE.  Of  course.  We  can't  have  dance  music 
all  the  time. 

VAUX.  But  life — at  least,  life  as  the  artist  usually 
knows  it — is  apt  to  be  sad  enough;  perhaps  it  is  natural 

63 


64  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

that  he  should  prefer  a  melancholy  theme  for  subjective 
interpretation. 

CYPRIENNE.  Speaking  of  melancholy  themes  reminds 
me  that  Adolphe  Lemaire  is  to  be  here. 

LUCETTE.  Why  do  you  call  this  M.  Lemaire  a  melan 
choly  theme? 

CYPRIENNE.  Don't  you  know  him?  He  exhibited 
that  remarkable  painting  called  '  Death  in  Life '  in  the 
recent  Salon. 

LUCETTE.     I  did  not  get  to  Paris  this  spring. 

CYPRIENNE.  You  surely  saw  a  reproduction  of  the 
picture — it  was  copied  in  all  the  illustrated  papers — a 
young  girl  wandering  through  a  sun-lit  grove  and  inter 
cepted  by  a  shrouded  figure  of  Death. 

LUCETTE.  Oh!  I  recall  it!  I  shall  be  delighted  to 
meet  the  artist. 

VAUX.  M.  D'Or  usually  brings  together  the  most 
interesting  people  at  his  musicales.  I  believe  the  poet 
Moreau  is  also  expected.  You  know  him,  Mme.  Clary? 
A  brilliant  but  eccentric  genius!  [LUCETTE  shakes  her 
head.] 

CYPRIENNE.  You  have  surely  heard  of  Jean  Moreau. 
He  writes  those  stinging  verses  against  the  government. 
M.  Dacier  says  that  the  Opposition  would  be  helpless  with 
out  him.  Of  course,  he  pretends  that  his  satires  refer  to 
the  middle  ages  or  to  some  other  country,  but  every  one 
knows  what  he  means! 

LUCETTE.  Have  you  brought  your  daughter  along,  M. 
Vaux? 

VAUX.     Yes ;  she  was  in  the  corridor  a  few  moments  ago. 

LUCETTE.     She  is  a  most  charming  girl — so  modest,  so 


II  Monsieur  D'Or  65 

refined,  and  so  very  reticent!  She  seems  almost  afraid  to 
express  an  opinion  of  her  own. 

VAUX.  Is  there  any  wonder?  The  sort  of  opinions 
that  society  likes  to  hear  are  not  the  sort  that  a  young  girl 
can  express  with  any  self-respect. 

CYPRIENNE.  Oh !  what  a  cynical  remark !  Could  any 
thing  be  more  attractive  than  the  sincere  thoughts  of  a 
sweet  girl  who  has  not  yet  lost  her  illusions,  who  is  still 
a  stranger  to  the  bitter  realities  of  life?  [She  sighs  J\ 

LUCETTE.  My  dear  Cyprienne !  Do  not  seem  so  vividly 
reminiscent!  It  makes  me  feel  like  an  old  woman  to  hear 
you  talk  in  that  strain.  It  isn't  ages  since  we  felt  that 
way  ourselves. 

CYPRIENNE.  It  isn't  ages,  Lucette,  in  the  number  of 
years,  but  I  feel  that  I  have  lived  ages  since  then. 

VAUX.     So  you  regret  those  days? 

CYPRIENNE.  They  were  sweet;  but  life  has  been  so 
varied  since — I  have  enjoyed  so  much — that  I  cannot  say 
that  I  regret  the  passing  of  impossible  ideals.  We  must 
all  awaken  from  the  vain  dreams  of  youth! 

VAUX.  I  would  have  Helene  dream  while  the  mystic 
charm  still  pervades  her  soul;  I  would  not  have  her 
crushed  to  earth  by  the  revelation  of  the  deep-seated  mis 
eries  of  existence.  I  would  foster  her  love  for  art,  her 
devotion  to  music — in  short,  her  taste  for  such  ideals  as 
are  cherished  by  our  genial  and  accomplished  host,  M. 
D'Or.  [Enter  D'OR,  at  the  centre,  in  a  frock  coat,  gold 
waistcoat,  wearing  a  conspicuous  scarf  pin  and  rings. ~\ 

D'OR.  My  good  friends!  You  have  just  enjoyed  a 
treat!  I  heard  the  Rachmaninoff  prelude  from  the  cor 
ridor,  M.  Vaux.  Your  interpretation  is  masterful;  it  is 
5 


66  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

the  grip  of  despair  itself  tugging  at  the  heartstrings  of 
humanity.  We  are  all  indebted  to  you  and  pay  homage 
to  your  art.  I  am  having  some  light  refreshment  served 
in  the  corridor.  Won't  you  kindly  step  that  way?  M. 
Vaux,  may  I  entrust  Mme.  Clary  to  you?  [VAUX  leads 
with  LUCETTE,  the  rest  follow.  CYPRIENNE  takes  D'On's 
arm.  When  the  others  are  outf  he  stops  shortJ} 

D'OR.  We  need  not  hurry  after  the  others,  Mme. 
Dacier.  I  have  not  had  a  chance  to  chat  with  you  this 
morning;  you  will  not  deny  me  the  pleasure  of  a  few 
words.  I  do  not  see  your  husband  among  the  guests. 

CYPRIENNE.  He  is  very  busy  at  the  bank  just  now. 
He  finds  it  impossible  to  get  away — even  for  such  a 
splendid  affair  as  you  are  giving  us  to-day. 

D'OR.  It  is  right  that  M.  Dacier  should  regard  his 
business  as  his  first  consideration.  He  is  becoming  one 
of  our  best  known  bankers. 

CYPRIENNE.  Ah!  you  are  trying  to  flatter  me.  My 
husband  is  like  many  others  who  are  engaged  in  the  money 
game — a  good  enough  fellow  in  the  ranks,  but  not  likely 
to  become  a  leader.  He  is  somewhat  envious  of  you ! 

D'OR.     He  envious  of  me? 

CYPRIENNE.  Yes — your  close  association  with  the  house 
of  Blaustein.  He  has  sought  for  years  to  acquire  the 
good  will  of  that  firm,  but  evidently  his  talents  and  re 
sources  are  not  sufficient  to  command  their  attention.  I 
also  am  envious,  M.  D'Or. 

D'OR.     Surely  not. 

CYPRIENNE.  I  am  envious  of  your  future  wife.  Think 
of  the  unlimited  wealth  you  will  place  at  her  disposal — 
the  unfailing  resource  of  gold. 


II  Monsieur  D'Or  67 

D'OR.     [Sentimentally.']     I  shall  never  marry. 

CYPRIENNE.     And  why  not? 

D'OR.  Because  the  one  charming  woman  whom  I 
know  is  already  married.  [CYPRIENNE  affects  indiffer 
ence.]  Her  name  is — Cyprienne!  [He  takes  her  hand.] 

CYPRIENNE.  [Starts,  but  does  not  withdraw  her  hand.] 
Hush,  M.  D'Or — you  should  not  say  such  things!  You 
should  not  call  me  Cyprienne.  M.  Dacier  would  not  like  it. 

D'OR.  Do  you  think  there  is  the  remotest  possibility 
of  my  saying  it  in  his  hearing,  Cyprienne? 

CYPRIENNE.  [Archly.]  You  are  an  irresistible  man. 
How  many  hearts  have  you  broken? 

D'OR.  None,  I  assure  you.  My  own  heart  is  more 
likely  to  be  broken,  unless — 

CYPRIENNE.  [Coming  closer.]  M.  D'Or,  you  might 
say  a  favorable  word  or  two  about  Dacier  to  the  Blausteins 
— you  have  such  great  influence ! 

D'OR.  [Eagerly.]  I  shall  be  delighted  to  do  so, 
Cyprienne.  We  must  talk  it  over  some  time.  When  can 
I  see  you? 

CYPRIENNE.     You  are  always  welcome  at  our  chateau. 

D'OR.     But  I  would  see  you  alone! 

CYPRIENNE.     [With  feigned  surprise.]     Alone? 

D'OR.  Surely,  our  plan  is  to  arrange  a  surprise  for  M. 
Dacier.  At  what  hour  does  he  reach  home? 

CYPRIENNE.     At  four  or  later. 

D'OR.  Then  I  may  call  some  afternoon — say  at  two? 
[CYPRIENNE  starts.]  We  can  talk  things  over  quite  by 
ourselves.  And  then — [Enter  BAPTISTE.] 

BAPTISTE.  [Announcing.]  M.  Moreau!  [BAPTISTE 
retires.] 


68  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

D'OR.  [To  CYPRIENNE.]  Confound  the  poet!  I'd 
rather  chat  with  you.  [Enter  MOREAU.]  Welcome,  my 
dear  M.  Moreau!  I'm  delighted  to  see  you. 

MOREAU.  Pardon  my  lateness,  M.  D'Or.  I  have 
been  attending  a  conclave  of  the  Opposition. 

D'OR.  Still  denouncing  the  government,  eh?  I  hope 
you  will  find  it  more  agreeable  here.  Mme.  Dacier,  may 
I  present  M.  Moreau? 

CYPRIENNE.  [Extending  her  hand.]  M.  Moreau  is 
an  old  friends  of  ours.  [Enter  BAPTISTE.] 

BAPTISTE.    [Announcing.']    M.  Lemaire!    [He  retires.] 

MOREAU.  Ah !  so  Lemaire  is  also  late.  Evidently  we 
poets  and  artists  are  an  unreliable  class.  [Enter  LEMAIRE.] 

D'OR.  My  best  greetings,  my  dear  Lemaire.  [LEMAIRE 
greets  CYPRIENNE  and  MOREAU.]  We  feared  you  were 
going  to  disappoint  us  this  time — and  every  one  is  anxious 
to  learn  what  work  you  have  undertaken  since  your  suc 
cessful  painting  '  Death  in  Life.' 

LEMAIRE.  [Staring  vacantly  and  nervously.]  I've  done 
very  little  lately.  Heaven  knows,  I  should  be  working, 
but  that  picture  seems  to  have  exhausted  every  vestige  of 
inspiration  in  my  being.  I  find  it  impossible  to  pull  myself 
together. 

MOREAU.  I  know  the  sensation — a  great  vital  utter 
ance  leaves  the  inventive  power  paralyzed  and  one  gropes 
about  in  vain  for  support. 

D'OR.  Gentlemen,  if  you  will  pardon  me,  I  shall 
escort  Mme.  Dacier  to  the  corridor  for  some  refreshment. 
Pray  make  yourselves  at  home;  I  shall  rejoin  you  shortly. 
[Exeunt  D'OR  and  CYPRIENNE.] 

LEMAIRE.     [Looking  about.]     What  a  palace!    What 


II  Monsieur  D'Or  69 

wonderful  appointments!  Is  it  conceivable  that  the  pen 
or  the  brush  could  ever  earn  such  luxury  for  either  of  us  ? 
D'Or's  supply  of  gold  seems  inexhaustible — and  he  spends 
with  a  knowing  hand. 

MOREAU.  A  pleasant  fellow,  our  host!  My  only 
regret  is  that  he  sympathizes  with  the  scoundrels  who  con 
stitute  the  present  ministry.  If  I  could  only  get  him  to 
support  the  Opposition,  we  should  have  the  Premier's 
resignation  within  a  week ! 

LEMAIRE.  Try  him,  Moreau!  It's  worth  working 
for!  I  believe  that  the  mere  mention  of  D'Or's  name  as 
an  adherent  of  our  party  would  overturn  the  authority  of 
the  Premier.  Try  to  have  a  quiet  talk  with  him  before 
you  go — and  let  me  know  how  you  succeed. 

MOREAU.  I  shall  do  it;  with  D'Or  on  our  side  the 
cause  is  as  good  as  won!  And  then,  Lemaire,  a  brighter 
day  shall  dawn  for  our  country.  We  shall  once  more 
lead  the  way  to  higher  and  nobler  achievement.  [Enter 
D'OR.] 

D'OR.  You  see,  my  friends,  I  have  not  kept  you  wait 
ing  long.  Perhaps  you  would  care  to  partake  of  some 
refreshment  ? 

MOREAU.  No,  thank  you.  Like  most  poets,  I  think 
most  clearly  on  an  empty  stomach. 

D'OR.  With  many  poets  compulsion  and  not  choice 
develops  that  opinion.  And  you,  M.  Lemaire? 

LEMAIRE.  [With  a  significant  look  at  MOREAU.]  I 
think  I  shall  cater  a  bit  to  the  inner  man.  I  shall  rejoin 
you  later.  Au  revoir!  [Exit  LEMAIRE.] 

D'OR.  Well,  my  dear  Moreau,  on  what  are  you  work 
ing  now?  I  hope  you  are  not  as  destitute  of  plans  as  our 
good  friend  Lemaire? 


70  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

MOREAU.  No;  I  am  writing  a  new  poem  which  I 
hope  to  finish  shortly. 

D'OR.     May  I  enquire  the  nature  of  your  subject? 

MOREAU.  Certainly.  I  am  seeking  to  glorify  the  future 
of  our  country  and  to  blaze  the  way  toward  the  realiza 
tion  of  its  noblest  ideals.  [Slowly.]  Of  course,  such  a 
dream  is  impossible  under  existing  conditions. 

D'OR.     You  mean  the  present  ministry? 

MOREAU.  Yes.  They  are  a  group  of  detestable  poli 
ticians  who  make  all  great  questions  of  state  subservient  to 
their  own  schemes  for  personal  power  and  profit. 

D'OR.  I  think  you  are  a  little  unfair  to  the  Premier 
and  his  associates.  You  must  not  forget  that  every  party 
when  out  of  office  rails  against  those  in  control. 

MOREAU.  But  the  Opposition  stands  upon  a  firm 
foundation  of  integrity  and  high  moral  purpose. 

D'OR.  Mere  vaporing,  my  dear  Moreau.  The  minor 
ity  is  always  respectable.  It's  their  only  chance  to  re 
gain  the  ascendancy.  If  your  Opposition  should  triumph 
they  would  soon  be  drunk  with  power  and  the  present 
party  could  successfully  parade  its  manifold  virtues  before 
the  public. 

MOREAU.  So  you  really  believe  that  in  the  long  run 
there  can  be  no  improvement  in  government? 

D'OR.  Yes,  if  you  choose  to  put  it  thus;  and  my 
advice  to  you  is  that  you  join  the  party  in  power.  You 
have  too  much  talent  to  squander  your  life  in  the  service 
of  a  hopeless  Opposition. 

MOREAU.  Hopeless  ?  I  thought  that  possibly  you  might 
be  induced  to  join  our  cause — to  become  the  patron  of  a 
new  and  better  order  of  things. 


II  Monsieur  D'Or  71 

D'OR.  [Apparently  ignoring  the  remark.]  Of  course, 
the  ministry  has  antagonized  the  visionaries — idealists  like 
yourself,  who  dream  of  Utopian  governments,  but  who 
have  little  or  no  experience  in  practical  affairs. 

MOREAU.  An  instinctive  sense  of  right  and  wrong  is 
the  best  equipment  for  a  statesman. 

D'OR.  There  speaks  the  poet!  Now,  may  I  tell  you 
in  confidence  what  really  does  constitute  the  best  equip 
ment  for  a  statesman  ? 

MOREAU.     [Curiously.']    What  is  it? 

D'OR.  [Deliberately.]  Knowledge  of  the  fact  that 
his  party  has  the  approval  of  the  Blausteins ! 

MOREAU.  [Astounded]  The  approval  of  a  banking- 
house  ! 

D'OR.  The  approval  of  the  greatest  power  in  the 
world — unlimited  gold. 

MOREAU.  It  seems  hardly  credible!  The  utter  cor 
ruption  of  the  existing  state  of  affairs  is  beyond  my  com 
prehension. 

D'OR.  M.  Moreau,  let  us  talk  sensibly  about  these 
things.  I  like  your  poetry  very  much;  I  admire  every 
thing  about  you  except  your  political  sentiments.  Why 
do  you  not  put  your  fine  talent  to  better  use  ? 

MOREAU.  What  better  use  is  there  than  devotion  to 
the  popular  welfare? 

D'OR.  Nonsense.  The  people  for  whom  you  write 
cannot  appreciate  the  subtlety  of  your  thought  nor  the 
nobility  of  your  inspired  poetic  flights.  They  place  a 
scant  value  upon  your  efforts.  The  present  government 
honors  its  friends  more  highly.  A  poem  in  praise  of  the 
ministry  would  bring  you  greater  material  reward  and 


72  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

more  renown  than  ten  years  of  labor  for  the  ungrateful 
Opposition. 

MOREAU.  M.  D'Or,  I  am  devoted  to  our  cause;  I 
would  not  write  a  poem  in  commendation  of  the  present 
ministry  for  fifty  thousand  francs. 

D'OR.     [Alert.']     You  would  not? 

MOREAU.     No.     It  would  be  treason  to  the  people. 

D'OR.  How  long  would  you  labor  for  the  popular 
cause  before  you  earned  fifty  thousand  francs  with  your 
pen? 

MOREAU.     Five  years  at  least. 

D'OR.  And  you  are  unwilling  to  purchase  a  release 
from  five  years  of  drudgery  by  a  single  effort  because  of  a 
conscientious  scruple?  You  are  indeed  a  patriot. 

MOREAU.     I  wish  merely  to  be  true  to  myself. 

D'OR.  [Slowly.]  M.  Moreau,  what  would  you  do  if 
some  one  were  to  offer  you — say  one  hundred  thousand 
francs  for  a  poem  over  your  signature  addressed  to  the 
Premier  and  commending  the  present  government? 

MOREAU.  [Aghast.]  One  hundred  thousand  francs! 
The  question  is  ridiculous.  You  are  trying  to  entrap  me. 

D'OR.  The  question  is  not  ridiculous.  I  offer  you 
that  sum ! 

MOREAU.     Are  you  serious? 

D'OR.  I  shall  not  mince  words.  The  government 
seeks  the  support  of  its  most  intelligent  and  most  gifted 
people.  You  are  one  of  these.  The  government  would 
not,  however,  pay  you  such  an  amount  as  I  have  men 
tioned;  that  sum  represents  my  personal  gratification  at 
the  prospect  of  numbering  M.  Moreau  among  the  cham 
pions  of  the  ministry. 


II  Monsieur  D'Or  73 

MOREAU.     You  are  bribing  me! 

D'OR.  I  am  not.  I  am  telling  you  that  there  is  fame 
and  substantial  reward  for  the  adherents  of  the  govern 
ment  ;  there  is  futile  effort  and  wasted  opportunity  for  the 
Opposition.  You  are  a  sane  man ;  which  do  you  choose  ? 

MOREAU.  But  to  write  such  a  poem  is  a  manifest 
renunciation  of  my  high  principles  of  conduct. 

D'OR.  To  write  such  a  poem  is  a  declaration  to  the 
world  that  you  have  become  a  conservative.  Are  you 
familiar  with  that  word  '  conservative  '  ?  It  is  a  word  of 
excellent  savor  and  of  good  repute.  A  man  who  betrays 
a  cause  is  justly  styled  a  renegade  or  a  traitor;  but  a  man 
who  has  held  visionary  views  concerning  government  or 
society,  and  who  as  a  result  of  maturer  deliberation  rejects 
such  fallacies  and  becomes  an  adherent  of  the  existing 
social  order  may  properly  be  styled  a  conservative.  That's 
the  worst  they  can  say  about  you — and  the  reward  is  the 
price  of  ten  years'  hard  labor  with  the  pen. 

MOREAU.  [Bewildered.]  One  hundred  thousand  francs ! 
I  can  see  it  in  every  journal  in  Paris!  '  M.  Moreau  joins 
the  conservatives ! '  One  hundred  thousand  francs ! 

D'OR.  [Jestingly."]  You  will  note  that  there  is  noth 
ing  conservative  in  the  sum  I  am  offering  you.  I  should 
call  it  liberal — decidedly  liberal! 

MOREAU.  [Brokenly. ,]  After  all,  perhaps  you're  right. 
Lemaire  will  think  I'm  a  cur — but  I  accept  your  offer.  I 
may  live  to  regret  this  step,  but  I  cannot  resist  you.  I 
shall  write  your  poem  and  I  shall  mean  every  word  that 
I  say.  Henceforth  I  am  one  of  your  party.  There  is  no 
future  for  me  elsewhere.  I  want  you  to  understand  that 
I  am  completely  within  your  ranks.  I  will  not  be  a  hire- 


74  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

ling,  to  puff  the  Premier  in  a  single  insincere  poem.  You 
have  not  bought  a  poem,  M.  D'Or — you  have  bought  me, 
body  and  soul.  Do  you  understand? 

D'OR.     [Quietly.]     Yes.     It  was  you  I  was  bidding  for. 

MOREAU.  [More  wildly.]  It's  a  serious  matter,  this 
tearing  one's  self  out  by  the  roots.  I  must  have  time  for 
reflection.  Pardon  me,  M.  D'Or,  it  is  growing  oppres 
sive  here — I  must  have  fresh  air.  I  cannot  meet  Lemaire 
just  now.  You  shall  have  your  poem — a  poem  from  the 
depths  of  my  heart.  It's  fresh  air  I  need — fresh  air! 
[J/e  staggers  out  with  a  groan.  D'OR  looks  after  him 
and  smiles  strangely.  He  draws  a  handful  of  gold  coins 
from  his  pocket  and  is  about  to  jingle  them  when  LEMAIRE 
enters.  D'OR  replaces  the  coins  quickly.] 

LEMAIRE.  You  are  alone!  I  expected  to  find  M. 
Moreau  with  you. 

D'OR.  [Coolly.]  He  left  me  only  a  moment  ago. 
Have  you  partaken  of  the  luncheon  ? 

LEMAIRE.  Yes,  and  chatted  with  some  of  your  delight 
ful  guests.  I  am  grateful  to  find  so  many  recognized 
Liberals  among  them.  Are  you  being  converted? 

D'OR.  By  no  means — but  I  like  to  know  intimately 
all  points  of  view.  It's  part  of  one's  education,  after  all. 
I  try  to  make  these  gatherings  as  varied  as  possible  and  to 
give  free  rein  to  the  expression  of  opinion.  Did  you  hear 
nothing  that  might  arouse  renewed  inspiration  for  another 
great  painting? 

LEMAIRE.  [Gloomily.]  I  shall  probably  grope  long 
in  the  dark  before  I  find  another  subject  as  striking  as 
'Death  in  Life'! 

D'OR.     Surely,  there  are  many  themes  available? 


II  Monsieur  D'Or  75 

LEMAIRE.  Few  that  I  should  care  to  depict.  I  shall 
paint  nothing  ignoble,  nothing  degrading.  If  my  brush 
is  not  destined  to  uplift  and  to  glorify  mankind,  I  shall 
cast  it  aside. 

D'OR.  A  noble  ideal,  indeed;  but  ideals  are  evanes 
cent  in  this  corrupt  old  world  of  ours. 

LEMAIRE.     Are  they  not  about  all  that  is  worth  while  ? 

D'OR.  Rather  too  unsubstantial,  I  should  say.  After 
all,  an  artist  must  labor  for  his  bread  and  butter.  Of 
course,  he  may  be  so  absorbed  in  his  ideals  that  he  ignores 
the  gross  commercial  value  of  his  inspiration  and  its 
product.  I  am  told  you  sold  your  '  Death  in  Life '  for  a 
trifle — yet  it  is  your  finest  picture. 

LEMAIRE.  I  have  no  regrets.  The  'Death  in  Life' 
was  sold  to  a  collector  while  it  still  hung  in  my  studio. 
He  offered  two  thousand  francs — I  needed  the  money  and 
accepted.  Had  I  anticipated  the  success  of  the  picture  in 
the  Salon,  I  might  have  asked  more. 

D'OR.  That  picture  would  have  been  cheap  at  ten 
thousand  francs.  Perhaps  you  do  not  know  that  I  offered 
your  lucky  purchaser  twice  that  sum — and  it  was  refused ! 

LEMAIRE.     Twenty  thousand  francs  for  my  painting! 

D'OR.  Yes,  and  it  was  refused.  [After  a  pause.']  I 
have  an  idea,  M.  Lemaire — a  good  one.  Will  you  paint 
me  a  companion  piece  to  '  Death  in  Life  '  ? 

LEMAIRE.     A  companion  piece? 

D'OR.  Yes.  You  might  call  it  '  Life  in  Death '  by 
way  of  contrast.  I  will  give  you  thirty  thousand  francs 
for  such  a  painting,  if  you  permit  me  to  suggest  the  subject. 

LEMAIRE.  You  are  willing  to  pay  that  price  for  a 
painting  of  mine? 


76  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

D'OR.  I  have  an  object  in  view.  I  wish  to  make  the 
other  painting  ridiculous,  so  that  the  purchaser  may  be 
willing  to  part  with  it. 

LEMAIRE.     I  do  not  quite  understand — 

D'OR.  Why  should  you?  It  is  but  necessary  that 
you  accept  my  offer. 

LEMAIRE.  Of  course  I  accept!  It  is  many  times 
more  than  I  have  ever  received  for  a  painting,  but  you  are 
a  rich  man,  a  noble  patron  of  the  arts.  Have  you  chosen 
your  subject? 

D'OR.     You  agree  to  be  bound  to  it? 

LEMAIRE.  Yes.  It  is  to  be  called  '  Life  in  Death/  I 
understand,  and  is  to  represent — 

D'OR.     [Slowly.]    A  dead  rat  lying  in  a  foul  gutter ! 

LEMAIRE.     [With  a  cry.']    You  are  mad,  M.  D'Or! 

D'OR.  Not  at  all.  I  think  it's  a  rather  good  subject 
to  accomplish  my  purpose.  I  would  like  you  to  represent 
the  rat  as  putrescent — 

LEMAIRE.  [Horrified.]  Stop,  monsieur!  You  are  in 
sulting  me.  I  shall  hear  no  more  of  that. 

D'OR.     You  gave  your  promise. 

LEMAIRE.  Yes,  to  paint  a  picture — not  to  execute  a 
mad  vagary  of  yours. 

D'OR.  I  don't  expect  my  realistic  theme  to  conform 
with  your  airy  ideals,  but  think  of  the  money  I  intend  to 
pay  you  for  this  painting. 

LEMAIRE.     It  won't  do.     I  must  refuse. 

D'OR.  [Firmly.]  I  intend  to  have  that  dead  rat,  M. 
Lemaire ! 

LEMAIRE.     Then  you  must  get  some  one  else  to  paint  it. 

D'OR.     I  intend  that  you  shall  paint  it.     Perhaps  I 


II  Monsieur  D'Or  77 

estimate  realism  too  cheaply.  I  offer  you  forty  thousand 
francs  for  the  rat ! 

LEMAIRE.  [Almost  in  a  whisper.]  Forty  thousand 
francs!  To  drag  my  reputation  as  an  artist  through  the 
slime? 

D'OR.  No.  To  initiate  you  into  a  new  and  profitable 
school  of  art.  Do  you  not  realize  that  mankind  has  a 
natural  craving  for  the  unclean  and  the  depraved?  Mine 
will  not  be  your  last  commission  in  the  realistic  style. 
Remember  that  I  am  offering  you  twenty  times  as  much 
as  you  received  for  your  '  Death  in  Life.'  If  any  one 
asks  you  why  you  painted  '  Life  in  Death,'  tell  them  it  is 
a  parody  on  the  original,  executed  at  my  order. 

LEMAIRE.  [Hesitating.]  If  I  did  not  need  the  money 
so  badly,  I  would — [Suddenly.]  I'll  do  it — I'll  do  it  for 
you,  M.  D'Or.  I  cannot  help  myself.  [Beating  his  fore 
head.]  A  dead  rat — Great  Heavens! — a  dead  rat!  [He 
rushes  out  wildly.  D'OR  is  about  to  jingle  the  gold 
as  before,  but  feels  that  he  cannot.  He  mops  his  brow 
with  his  handkerchief  and  seems  somewhat  distracted. 
Meanwhile  HELENE  VAUX,  a  charming  girl  of  eighteen, 
dressed  simply  in  white,  enters  quietly  and  gazes  strangely 
at  D'OR  as  if  to  fathom  his  thoughts.] 

D'OR.  [Observing  her.]  Mile.  Vaux!  I  did  not 
hear  you  come  in. 

HELENE.  [Timidly.]  Pardon  me,  M.  D'Or.  I  am 
looking  for  my  father. 

D'OR.  Surely  you  will  not  deny  me  the  pleasure  of 
a  few  words  with  you.  I  am  always  glad  to  see  you  here 
with  your  father,  but  you  seem  desirous  of  avoiding  me. 

HELENE.     [Nervously.]     No! — I — 


78  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

D'OR.  My  sole  object  on  such  occasions  as  this  is 
to  make  my  guests  happy — to  entertain  them  in  a  way 
that  will  ever  be  a  pleasant  memory  in  the  days  to  come ; 
yet  you  always  seem  apprehensive  of  harm — 

HELENE.  I  cannot  explain.  It  seems  so  strange  that 
you — [She  stops  helplessly.  They  gaze  fixedly  at  each 
other.~\ 

D'OR.  [After  a  pause. ,]  Eleanor!  [He  seems  en 
trance  dJ\ 

HELENE.  Why  do  you  call  me  Eleanor?  My  name 
is  Helene. 

D'OR.  [Embarrassed.'}  Pardon  me,  Mile.  Vaux.  I 
once  knew  some  one  of  that  name.  You  resemble  her — 
you  bring  back  fleeting  memories  of  the  past. 

HELENE.  [///  at  ease.}  I  do  not  understand — I  must 
find  my  father.  [She  goes  off  hastily.  D'OR  sits  down  at 
the  right  and  rests  his  head  on  his  hand  as  if  dazed.  He 
does  not  notice  BAPTISTE  who  enters.} 

BAPTISTE.  M.  D'Or!  [Louder.}  M.  D'Or!  [A 
pause.} 

D'OR.     [Recovering  himself.}     Baptiste! 

BAPTISTE.  Mme.  Dacier  asked  me  to  give  you  this 
note. 

D'OR.  [Takes  it.}  Very  well.  [BAPTISTE  bows  him 
self  out.  D'OR  opens  the  envelope  and  draws  out  a  card 
which  he  reads.}  '  To-morrow  at  two — Cyprienne.'  [He 
quickly  thrusts  the  card  into  his  waistcoat  pocket.  His 
demeanor  instantly  changes.  He  is  completely  aroused 
from  his  trance.  VAUX  enters  at  the  centre.}  Ah!  M. 
Vaux,  your  daughter  is  looking  for  you! 

VAUX.     I  have  been  neglecting  her  all  morning.     I 


II  Monsieur  D'Or  79 

thought  she  was  talking  to  Mme.  Clary  a  few  moments 
ago. 

D'OR.  Your  daughter  is  a  most  attractive  girl — one 
in  a  thousand.  I  congratulate  you,  M.  Vaux,  on  the  pos 
session  of  such  a  jewel. 

VAUX.  [Pleased.]  Yes,  Helene  is  a  good  girl — my 
chief  consolation  since  her  mother  was  taken  away.  It  is 
my  one  regret  that  I  cannot  give  her  the  musical  training 
that  her  talents  merit. 

D'OR.     Surely  she  has  teachers? 

VAUX.  The  best  that  my  purse  allows,  but  not  the 
best  to  be  had.  We  musicians  cannot  hope  to  win  great 
wealth,  yet  I  still  have  hopes  that  when  my  new  sym 
phonic  poem  is  brought  out — 

D'OR.     A  new  composition !     I  am  glad  to  hear  of  it. 

VAUX.  It  is  almost  completed.  I  have  been  laboring 
on  it  for  many  years.  It  was  begun  in  the  first  hours  of 
grief  after  the  loss  of  Helene's  mother.  I  have  put  my 
very  soul  into  that  score ! 

D'OR.     Have  you  a  program  in  mind  ? 

VAUX.  I  shall  call  it  'The  Conqueror' — the  record 
of  a  storm-tossed  soul  that  works  its  way  through  peril 
and  temptation  to  the  triumphant  heights  of  its  ideal. 
You  see  how  much  of  a  dreamer  I  am,  but  I  love  the  idea 
of  the  conquering  soul — the  personality  that  dominates 
and  directs. 

D'OR.  [Much  interested.]  That  is  a  very  fascinating 
idea — the  personality  that  dominates!  I  am  sure  you 
will  win  fame  with  '  The  Conqueror.'  Have  you  sought 
to  glorify  a  particular  hero  in  your  composition  ? 

VAUX.     No.     It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  man  who 


8o  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

represents  my  ideal  conqueror — who  reaches  the  heights 
unspotted  with  the  stains  of  the  battle. 

D'OR.  The  more  I  think  of  your  idea,  the  more  it 
pleases  me.  I  always  have  sought  to  be  such  a  conqueror 
as  you  have  in  mind — a  man  of  commanding  position  and 
so  equipped  as  to  become  a  directing  intelligence  in  the 
affairs  of  the  world.  This  may  sound  boastful,  M.  Vaux, 
but  I  have  a  reason  for  speaking  thus. 

VAUX.     [Bewildered.']     I  do  not  understand — 

D'OR.  You  say  that  you  have  no  particular  hero  in 
mind  to  whom  you  are  addressing  your  symphonic  poem. 
Would  it  be  presumptuous  on  my  part  to  say  that  I  should 
feel  honored  to  have  such  a  composition  dedicated  to  me? 
Let  me  explain  more  fully,  M.  Vaux — there  need  be  no 
reserve.  I  have  abundance  of  the  wealth  that  you  in 
common  with  others  find  so  useful ;  you  have  a  talent  that 
can  immortalize  the  man  to  whom  your  compositions  are 
addressed.  If  you  were  to  honor  me  with  the  dedication 
of  c  The  Conqueror '  I  should  see  that  every  resource  were 
at  the  disposal  of  Mile.  Vaux  for  her  thorough  musical 
training. 

VAUX.     For  Helene's  education? 

D'OR.  It  would  be  a  trifle  for  me,  M.  Vaux;  to  you 
it  would  represent  long  hours  of  arduous  toil.  Thus  each 
of  us  can  serve  the  other. 

VAUX.  [Anxious  not  to  offend.]  I  must  confess  that 
I  had  a  very  different  ideal  of  *  The  Conqueror ' — pardon 
my  bluntness,  but  my  hero  typified  spiritual  achievement, 
not  the  conquests  of  material  wealth. 

D'OR.  Of  course — I  understand.  Spiritual  achieve 
ment  has  a  pleasant  sound  and  at  one  time  in  the  world's 


II  Monsieur  D'Or  81 

history  it  probably  meant  something;  but  we  are  living  in 
a  very  different  age.  The  real  conquerors  of  to-day  are 
the  men  who  act  as  stewards  of  the  world's  great  wealth. 
I  can  buy  you  any  man  you  may  name,  heart  and  soul. 
It  is  merely  a  question  of  price — 

VAUX.     [Horrified.]     M.  D'Or! 

D'OR.  I  know  it  sounds  scandalous,  but  it  is  true — I 
have  demonstrated  my  power.  There  are  no  conquests  in 
this  world  like  the  conquests  of  material  wealth. 

VAUX.  [Sadly.]  I  have  lived  in  this  world  many 
more  years  than  you,  M.  D'Or — I  know  the  weakness  of 
humanity.  There  is  much  truth  in  what  you  say ;  but  we 
artists  have  not  done  our  duty  if  we  are  content  to  depict 
the  world  as  we  find  it — if  we  do  not  point  the  way  to 
higher  ideals — 

D'OR.  [Impatiently.]  A  truce  to  your  ideals!  I 
have  heard  more  than  enough  this  morning  about  ideals! 
I  have  just  made  you  a  substantial  and  flattering  offer; 
you  seem  inclined  to  treat  me  in  turn  to  a  conventional 
discussion  on  the  nature  of  the  artistic  impulse.  You  are 
a  poor  man,  M.  Vaux,  though  a  talented  one.  You  have 
a  daughter  whose  future  welfare  is  largely  concerned  in 
your  answer  to  my  offer.  Are  you  foolish  enough  to 
hesitate  ? 

VAUX.  I  appreciate  fully  what  your  offer  means,  but 
people  will  understand  by  my  dedication  that  I  desire  to 
uphold  you  as  the  type  of  '  The  Conqueror ' — 

D'OR.     And  why  not? 

VAUX.     Because  I  had  a  very  different  conqueror  in 
mind — one  whose  career  typified  a  conquest  by  spiritual 
resource,  by  unfailing  courage — 
6 


82  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

D'OR.  [Suddenly  but  with  deliberation.]  M.  Vaux, 
do  you  love  your  daughter  Helene?  Are  you  mindful 
of  her  future — of  the  years  when  you  will  no  longer  be 
here  to  protect  her  ? 

VAUX.  [Completely  broken]  I  can  struggle  against 
you  no  longer.  You  have  triumphed !  '  The  Conqueror ' 
shall  be  dedicated  to  you! 

D'OR.  [Smoothly]  I  appreciate  the  honor,  especially 
since  there  was  no  haggling  over  terms.  Rest  assured, 
M.  Vaux,  you  will  have  no  occasion  to  regret  your  trust 
in  my  generosity. 

VAUX.  [Subdued]  I  have  done  it  for  my  Helene.  [He 
sits  on  the  soja,  right,  and  seems  overcome  with  emotion. 
HELENE  enters  and  takes  a  half  kneeling  position  on  the 
mat  at  his  feet.  She  places  a  small  autograph  album  on 
his  lap] 

HELENE.  Father,  I  have  been  searching  for  you.  Mme. 
Clary  wishes  your  autograph.  Isn't  it  an  honor!  Just 
look  at  the  famous  names — artists,  poets,  musicians — 

VAUX.  [Takes  a  fountain  pen  from  his  pocket  and 
writes]  Mme.  Clary  is  very  kind  to  ask  your  father  to 
enroll  himself  in  this  record  of  genius.  [Turning  the 
pages]  What  is  this?  M.  D'Or,  I  find  your  name 
here! 

D'OR.  [With  a  smile]  Indeed !  Does  it  appear  out 
of  place  among  your  brilliant  assemblage  of  earth's  talented 
sons? 

VAUX.  No,  no !  Do  not  misunderstand  me !  I  thought 
it  was  merely  a  collection  of  artists'  autographs.  I  am 
pleased  to  see  it  includes  at  least  one  generous  patron  of 
the  arts.  [To  HELENE.]  Helene,  we  are  much  indebted 


II  Monsieur  D'Or  83 

to  M.  D'Or.  He  will  make  it  possible  for  me  to  give 
you  the  best  masters  for  your  musical  training. 

HELENE.  [Rising.]  You  could  not  accept  such  an 
offer? 

VAUX.  [Embarrassed.]  I  am  dedicating  *  The  Con 
queror  '  to  M.  D'Or.  It  has  pleased  him  to  express  his 
generous  intentions  in  return. 

HELENE.  [  Turning  on  D'OR  with  unexpected  energy.] 
'  The  Conqueror ' !  [Reproachfully.]  M.  D'Or,  you  have 
taken  advantage  of  an  old  man. 

D'OR.  Taken  advantage!  Those  are  hard  words  for 
one  who  has  your  welfare  at  heart.  I  am  enabling  your 
father  to  provide  amply  for  you;  indirectly  I  am  helping 
you  to  make  the  most  of  life,  to  win  fame  and  position  if 
the  talent  abides  within  you.  This  you  call  taking  advan 
tage  of  your  father! 

HELENE.  M.  D'Or,  we  are  here  as  your  guests.  I 
cannot  speak  frankly. 

D'OR.  If  I  have  offended  you,  my  roof  shall  not  save 
me  from  your  reproaches.  Speak  as  freely  as  you  will  and 
tell  me  honestly  why  you  despise  my  offer. 

VAUX.  Helene,  I  beseech  you,  be  careful  how  you 
answer. 

HELENE.  [To  D'OR.]  You  see  how  thoroughly  you 
have  subdued  my  poor  father!  He  fears  that  my  frank 
ness  will  forfeit  the  bounty  you  are  disposed  to  heap  upon 
us.  You  wish  me  to  speak  freely  ? 

D'OR.     By  all  means. 

HELENE.  Very  well.  M.  D'Or,  I  fear  the  intention 
of  your  apparent  kindness. 

D'OR.     Why  do  you  say  that? 


84  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

HELENE.  A  few  moments  ago  I  passed  M.  Moreau 
in  the  corridor — Moreau,  the  brave  champion  of  the  peo 
ple — and  I  heard  him  say  that  he  had  changed  his  political 
views,  and  now  felt  morally  obliged  to  support  the  ministry ! 

VAUX.  [Astonished.]  Moreau  a  conservative!  Im 
possible  ! 

D'OR.     What  have  I  to  do  with  Moreau's  politics? 

HELENE.  [Watching  him  closely.]  I  cannot  help 
thinking  that  you  had  a  hand  in  his  sudden  change  of 
faith. 

D'OR.  [Carelessly.']  Why  should  I  deny  it?  You 
would  not  believe  me. 

HELENE.  [Coming  closer.]  M.  D'Or,  I  would  believe 
you,  if  I  heard  you  deny  it !  Do  you  deny  it  ? 

D'OR.  [Without  flinching,  looking  steadily  at  her.] 
Mile.  Vaux,  I  admire  your  courage;  I  marvel  at  your 
penetration.  I  shall  tell  you  the  truth.  I  bought  that 
fellow  Moreau  for  so  much  gold.  He's  my  man  now  and 
he'll  take  my  orders  when  I  give  them.  [VAUX  groans.] 

HELENE.  Father,  do  you  hear  what  M.  D'Or  says? 
[To  D'OR.]  Is  there  nothing  else  on  your  conscience? 
Are  you  aware  that  M.  Lemaire  is  astonishing  your  guests 
by  incoherent  ravings  about  dead  rats  and  foul-smelling 
gutters  ? 

D'OR.  [Steadily.]  It's  the  subject  for  his  next  paint 
ing.  The  fellow  is  executing  it  at  my  commission.  I 
chose  the  subject,  and  I  pay  him  his  price.  [VAUX  groans 
again.] 

HELENE.  [To  VAUX.]  Are  you  still  inclined  to  dedi 
cate  'The  Conqueror'  to  M.  D'Or? 

VAUX.     I  have  given  my  promise. 


II  Monsieur  D'Or  85 

D'OR.  I  shall  release  you  from  that  promise  if  Mile. 
Vaux  requests  it. 

HELENE.  I  do  not  request  it.  After  all,  you  are  a 
conqueror — you  have  triumphed  over  my  unhappy  father 
just  as  you  overcame  those  other  frail  souls  and  dragged 
them  to  the  earth. 

D'OR.  I  release  your  father  from  his  promise.  His 
conqueror  is  a  vain  seeker  after  empty  ideals.  M.  Vaux, 
you  may  dedicate  your  symphonic  flight  to  whom  you  will, 
but  I  beg  you  to  let  me  carry  out  at  least  my  part  of  our 
compact.  [VAUX  looks  eagerly  at  HELENE  to  reply.'] 

HELENE.  You  have  made  that  impossible  for  us,  M. 
D'Or.  We  cannot  accept  your  generosity.  [To  VAUX.] 
We  must  not  stay  here  any  longer.  Let  us  go  home. 

D'OR.  Can  we  not  remain  friends?  Will  you  not 
permit  the  resources  of  my  wealth  to  prove  my  friendship  ? 

HELENE.  [More  softly.]  The  best  way  to  befriend 
you,  M.  D'Or,  is  to  prove  to  you  the  futility  of  your 
wealth.  Come,  father. 

VAUX.     Good-bye,  M.  D'Or.     [He  offers  his  hand.] 

D'OR.     Good-bye.     [He  looks  at  HELENE.] 

HELENE.  [After  a  pause  extends  her  hand.]  Good-bye. 
Are  you  not  convinced  ? 

D'OR.  Not  yet — but  you  are  very  kind  to  me.  [He 
kisses  her  hand.] 

VAUX.  [Near  the  entrance,  as  if  inspired.']  M.  D'Or, 
at  last  I  know  to  whom  I  shall  dedicate  '  The  Conqueror.' 

D'OR.     To  whom? 

VAUX.  [Taking  HELENE'S  hand.]  To  my  daughter 
Helene!  [They  go  out  quickly.] 

D'OR.     [Somewhat  seriously,  after  a  pause.]     Perhaps 


86  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

the  old  man  is  right — and  perhaps  he  is  not!  [Laughs 
cynically  and  puts  his  hand  as  if  by  instinct  to  his  waist 
coat  pocket.  He  draws  out  CYPRIENNE'S  card  and  reads 
it  again.]  '  To-morrow  at  two — Cypri.enne.'  [He  kisses 
the  card  as  the  curtain  falls.] 


SCENE  III 

[A  private  parlor  in  the  Hotel  Royal,  Interlaken.  The 
room  is  handsomely  furnished  in  dark  red.  There  are 
wide  double  doors  in  the  centre  with  elaborate  panels  on 
either  side.  On  the  left  side  there  is  an  exit  and  a  fire 
place  in  which  a  fire  is  burning.  On  the  right  there  is 
a  window  overlooking  the  street  below.  There  is  also  an 
exit  further  front.  The  furniture  is  appropriate  for  a 
business  meeting.  A  large  central  table  is  flanked  by  five 
armchairs.  There  is  a  large  armchair,  left;  also  a  small 
table  with  an  adjacent  chair,  right.  As  the  curtain  rises 
one  central  door  opens  slowly  and  CLAIRE  LASALLE  peers 
in  nervously.  Seeing  no  one,  she  enters  and  closes  the 
door  softly  behind  her.  She  is  dressed  in  black,  with  a 
white  collar,  and  carries  a  small  leather  writing  pad.  Her 
demeanor  is  that  of  a  person  undertaking  a  delicate  and 
difficult  mission.  She  goes  to  the  door,  right,  and  knocks 
cautiously.  Receiving  no  answer,  she  stands  for  a  mo 
ment,  centre,  in  evident  indecision,  then  advances  to  the 
door,  left,  and  knocks.  The  door  is  opened  and  M.  D'OR 
steps  in.  He  wears  black  satin  knee-breeches  and  a  fancy 
house-jacket,  heavily  trimmed  with  gold  braid.  CLAIRE 
hurriedly  draws  a  card  from  her  pad  and  hands  it  to 
D'OR.] 

CLAIRE.     M.  D'Or? 

D'OR.  Yes.  [Reads  the  card.']  '  Mile.  Claire  Lasalle, 
stenographer/  [He  looks  at  her  curiously,  then  at  the 

87 


88  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

card.]  Ah!  the  Blausteins!  I  must  confess  I  hardly 
expected  them  to  send  a  lady!  [He  bows] 

CLAIRE.  The  Blausteins  desire  a  verbatim  report  of 
the  meeting. 

D'OR.      Are  you  familiar  with  such  commissions  as  this  ? 

CLAIRE.  [Smiling.']  Yes.  [She  looks  about.]  You 
must  place  me  where  I  can  write  unmolested.  It  is  not 
necessary  that  I  should  see  them.  My  hearing  is  acute. 
[She  indicates  the  door,  right.]  Is  that  room  available? 

D'OR.     Yes. 

CLAIRE.  They  are  likely  to  insist  on  locked  doors. 
You  might  let  me  lock  myself  in.  I  can  open  the  door 
slightly  after  the  conference  has  begun. 

D'OR.  Very  well.  I  shall  turn  the  knob  as  a  signal 
to  you  that  we  are  about  to  begin.  Be  very  careful, 
mademoiselle ! 

CLAIRE.  Have  no  fear.  Such  experience  is  not  new 
to  me. 

D'OR.  Do  you  know  them — Muirhead,  Graefflingen, 
and  the  rest? 

CLAIRE.  All  but  Andri.ev.  He  is  a  stranger  to  me. 
You  expect  them  at  three  ?  We  have  little  time  to  spare. 

D'OR.  You're  right.  I  shall  make  you  comfortable 
before  they  arrive.  [He  crosses  to  the  right.]  You  will 
pardon  my  appearance,  Mile.  Lasalle — I  was  dressing  for 
this  conference  when  you  knocked. 

CLAIRE.  Certainly.  Do  not  let  me  detain  you.  [He 
goes  off,  right,  meanwhile  she  opens  her  leather  pad  and 
gets  her  pencils  ready.  In  a  moment  D'OR  returns.] 

D'OR.  I  have  placed  a  chair  for  you  just  beside  the 
door.  [After  a  pause.]  Really,  I  cannot  quite  grasp  the 


Ill  Monsieur  D'Or  89 

idea  that  a  woman  should  be  entrusted  with  diplomatic 
work  of  this  character. 

CLAIRE.     [Facetiously.]     There  are  women  and  women. 

D'OR.  And,  moreover,  a  few  rarely  endowed  young 
ladies  who  can  keep  secrets — important  secrets  of  state. 
Mademoiselle,  I  congratulate  you !  I  hope  the  Blausteins 
pay  you  adequately  for  such  unusual  services. 

CLAIRE.     [Simply.]     A  thousand  francs  a  session. 

D'OR.     Will  you  permit  me  to  double  it  this  time? 

CLAIRE.  [Surprised,  but  on  her  guard.]  Why  should 
you? 

D'OR.     [Ingenuously.]     Why  shouldn't  I  ? 

CLAIRE.  [Sharply.]  M.  D'Or,  the  thousand  francs 
that  the  Blausteins  pay  me  are  sufficiently  tainted.  I've 
sunk  about  as  low  as  I  care  to.  Does  that  answer  your 
question  ? 

D'OR.  Your  cleverness  assures  me  that  the  Blausteins 
do  not  appreciate  you  at  your  real  worth. 

CLAIRE.  Perhaps  you're  right — but  I  had  the  privilege 
of  naming  the  degree  and  the  price  of  my  corruption,  so 
I  have  no  cause  for  complaint.  May  I  take  my  place  in 
the  next  room? 

D'OR.  Certainly.  [He  throws  open  the  door,  right, 
for  her.]  Make  yourself  comfortable,  while  I  hurry  into 
the  rest  of  my  official  dress.  [She  passes  out.]  But  let 
me  first  test  our  arrangement.  [He  adjusts  the  door  to  a 
very  slight  aperture.]  There!  How  is  that?  [He 
crosses  to  the  left  side  and  faces  the  door,  right.]  Now, 
mademoiselle,  can  you  hear  me  distinctly  at  this  distance? 

CLAIRE.     [Within.]     Yes,  quite  plainly. 

D'OR.     Can  you  hear  me  when  I  say  that  my  offer  oi 


90  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

that  extra  thousand  francs  will  hold  good  after  the  con 
ference  if  you  should  see  fit  to  take  it?  [No  answer.  He 
draws  a  little  nearer.]  Perhaps  you  would  hear  better  if 
I  said  two  thousand  francs! 

CLAIRE.  [Throwing  the  door  wide  open  and  stepping 
into  the  room.]  M.  D'Or,  we  two — you  and  I — are 
about  to  engage  in  a  very  contemptible  business  here.  I 
am  being  paid  my  price;  I  trust  you  are  getting  yours. 
There  should  be  some  show  of  mutual  respect  even  among 
the  corrupt.  If  you  annoy  me  further,  I  may  be  tempted 
to  step  out  during  your  little  conference  to  expose  you  for 
the  despicable  creature  that  you  are! 

D'OR.  [With  a  deprecatory  gesture]  Pray  retire, 
mademoiselle,  to  your  post  of  vantage.  I  shall  risk  no 
further  verbal  fusillade  from  that  accomplished  tongue  of 
yours. 

CLAIRE.  [With  a  sneer]  Where  did  the  Blausteins 
find  you  ?  They  have  the  reputation  of  employing  agents 
who  attend  strictly  to  the  business  at  hand.  Let  us  see  if 
you  can  live  up  to  that  standard!  [She  goes  off,  right, 
and  closes  the  door  with  a  bang.  The  lock  clicks  audibly. 
D'OR  shrugs  his  shoulders  and  goes  off,  left,  shaking  his 
head.  For  a  few  moments  the  stage  is  empty.  A  knock 
is  heard  at  the  centre  door.  It  is  repeated,  then  the  door 
opens  and  HERR  LOBEN  steps  in.  He  draws  out  his 
watch] 

LOBEN.  None  here  yet!  I  have  the  honor  to  be  the 
first.  [He  crosses  to  the  table,  right,  and  puts  down  a 
red  portfolio.  A  moment  later  MR.  GILBERT  enters, 
carrying  a  similar  black  portfolio.  LOBEN 's  back  is 
turned] 


Ill  Monsieur  D'Or  91 

GILBERT.     Herr  Loben,  I  believe? 

LOBEN.  [Turning.]  Ah — you  are  the  secretary  of 
Sir  Mortimer  Muirhead — let  me  see — Mr. — 

GILBERT.     Mr.  Gilbert. 

LOBEN.  Yes !  Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Gilbert.  I  infer 
that  Sir  Mortimer  is  to  be  at  this  mysterious  conference? 

GILBERT.  [He  places  his  portfolio  on  the  centre  table 
and  examines  his  papers.]  Yes.  Is  Baron  Graefflingen 
also  to  be  here  ? 

LOBEN.  I  expect  him  every  moment.  [He  goes  to  the 
window  and  looks  out.  Comes  back  and  watches  GIL 
BERT  with  his  papers,  then,  after  a  pause,  speaks  as  if  in 
confidence]  I  say,  Mr.  Gilbert,  do  you  know  what  it's 
all  about? 

GILBERT.  [Carelessly]  What?  This  meeting  with 
M.  D'Or? 

LOBEN.     Yes.     Do  you  know  him  ? 

GILBERT.  I  have  seen  him  once  or  twice  at  the  consu 
late.  He  is  enormously  rich — one  of  the  Blaustein  coterie. 

LOBEN.  Ah!  so  this  is  a  Blaustein  affair!  I  thought 
as  much.  Marquis  Pallot  and  Count  Andriev  are  also 
to  be  here.  Quite  an  international  gathering,  eh? 

GILBERT.  [Absently,  busy  with  his  papers]  Yes, 
quite  so.  [Suddenly]  What's  that  you're  saying?  Pallot 
and  Andriev? 

LOBEN.  I  thought  you  took  it  rather  mildly.  Yes, 
both  of  them.  [A  pause]  Do  you  suspect  anything? 

GILBERT.     What  do  you  mean? 

LOBEN.  Don't  you  imagine  that  something  is  on  foot 
when  such  a  distinguished  array  of  diplomatic  talent 
gathers  to  receive  orders  from  the  Blausteins — 


92  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

GILBERT.  [Springing  up.']  To  receive  orders — from 
the  Blausteins?  Herr  Loben,  that  is  too  absurd — 

LOBEN.  [With  a  shrug.]  How  long  have  you  been 
Sir  Mortimer's  secretary? 

GILBERT.     Six  months. 

LOBEN.  Still  a  youngster  in  diplomacy,  eh?  I  have 
been  with  Baron  Graefflingen  for — let  me  see — seven 
years  this  winter. 

GILBERT.    Well? 

LOBEN.  Only  this,  Mr.  Gilbert.  To-day  is  not  the 
first  time  that  I  hear  the  name  of  the  Blausteins. 

GILBERT.  Possibly  not !  But  you  spoke  of  their  giving 
orders — 

LOBEN.  I  hate  to  disillusion  you — there  was  a  time 
when  I  felt  about  things  as  you  do  now — those  were  the 
days  of  my  diplomatic  innocence.  [Motor-horn  is  heard 
outside.  LOBEN  goes  to  the  window.]  It's  your  principal, 
Sir  Mortimer. 

GILBERT.  [Looks  at  his  watch.]  He's  on  time.  It 
lacks  a  minute  or  two  of  three. 

LOBEN.  [Coming  forward.]  He  evidently  doesn't 
believe  in  keeping  an  emissary  of  the  Blausteins  waiting. 
[GILBERT  is  annoyed.]  No  offense,  Mr.  Gilbert — the 
others  won't  be  long  in  following  him.  [Enter  SIR 
MORTIMER  MUIRHEAD  at  the  centre^ 

MUIRHEAD.       [Nods  to  GILBERT,  then  tUTUS  to  LOBEN.] 

Good  afternoon,  Herr  Loben.     Graefflingen's  coming? 

LOBEN.  [Politely.]  Yes,  Sir  Mortimer.  He  should 
be  here  now. 

MUIRHEAD.  [To  GILBERT.]  You  have  sent  off  the 
dispatches? 


Ill  Monsieur  D'Or  93 

GILBERT.  Yes;  they  went  this  morning.  I  have  re 
ceived  a  wire  confirming  your  reservations  at  Geneva  for 
next  week. 

MUIRHEAD.  Very  good.  [To  LOBEN.]  I  believe 
Baron  Graefflingen  is  one  of  your  delegates  to  the  Geneva 
Conference? 

LOBEN.  Yes,  he  heads  the  delegation ;  our  government 
is  sending  six  representatives.  [Motor-horn  is  heard; 
LOBEN  goes  to  the  window  as  before.]  Here  comes  the 
Baron!  [He  looks  out.]  I'm  wrong!  It's  Marquis 
Pallot  and  Count  Andriev! 

MUIRHEAD.     Count  Andriev! 

LOBEN.     Yes,  Sir  Mortimer.     They  are  both  expected. 

MUIRHEAD.  [To  GILBERT.]  Have  you  seen  nothing 
of  M.  D'Or? 

GILBERT.  I  asked  before  I  came  up.  The  attendants 
informed  me  that  he  had  taken  a  suite  here  at  the  hotel. 
[Enter  PALLOT  and  ANDRIEV.] 

PALLOT.  Good  afternoon,  Sir  Mortimer.  [He  nods 
slightly  to  the  others.]  You  know  Count  Andriev? 

MUIRHEAD.  I  have  the  honor.  [ANDRIEV  bows.~\ 
My  secretary,  Mr.  Gilbert — Herr  Loben,  secretary  to 
Baron  Graefflingen. 

PALLOT.  Are  you  familiar  with  the  circumstances  that 
bring  us  together  to-day,  Sir  Mortimer? 

MUIRHEAD.  I  know  absolutely  nothing  except  that 
the  note  from  Paris  asks  me  to  meet  M.  D'Or  at  three  this 
afternoon. 

ANDRIEV.  My  note  read,  *  M.  D'Or  of  the  house  of 
Blaustein.' 

MUIRHEAD.      Of    course — mine    also!      [Laughing.'] 


94  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

Otherwise  what  claim  would  the  gentleman  have  upon 
our  attention?  [GILBERT  starts  and  avoids  the  grinning 
glance  of  LOBEN.] 

PALLOT.  I  must  say  that  I  resent  such  a  peremptory 
summons,  coming  from  such  a  source;  but  there  is  no 
alternative,  I  understand — we  must  simply  comply  with 
the  request.  [LOBEN  coughs,  and  watches  GILBERT'S 
tense  face.~\ 

ANDRIEV.  We  may  as  well  be  prepared  for  the  Blau- 
stein  message — it  undoubtedly  concerns  the  Geneva  Con 
ference  of  next  week.  [Motor-horn  is  heard  again; 
LOBEN  goes  to  the  window.] 

LOBEN.     It  is  the  Baron! 

MUIRHEAD.  Graefflingen  may  be  better  informed1  than 
the  rest  of  us.  Perhaps  he  may  be  able  to  throw  some 
light  upon  the  very  unusual  procedure  that  brings  us 
together. 

PALLOT.  I  doubt  it.  The  Blausteins  rarely  take  any 
one  into  their  confidence.  They  say  nothing  till  they  are 
ready  to  talk,  but  then — [Enter  GRAEFFLINGEN.] 

GRAEFFLINGEN.  Good  afternoon,  gentlemen.  Am  I 
late?  [He  shakes  hands  with  the  diplomats  and  nods  to 
GILBERT.]  M.  D'Or  has  not  yet  appeared? 

MUIRHEAD.  No.  We've  been  counting  on  you,  Baron, 
to  tell  us  what  it's  all  about. 

GRAEFFLINGEN.  I  cannot  speak  with  any  authority, 
but  from  a  dispatch  received  this  morning  I  infer  that  the 
Blausteins  are  not  pleased  with  certain  details  of  the  inter 
national  agreement  that  will  probably  be  adopted  at 
Geneva  next  week. 

PALLOT.     [Looking  at  his  watch.']     I  do  not  know  how 


Ill  Monsieur  D'Or  95 

soon  M.  D'Or  is  likely  to  join  us — but  I  believe  it  would 
be  advisable  among  ourselves  to  oppose  any  material  altera 
tion  in  the  Geneva  agreement. 

MUIRHEAD.  A  united  front  might  strengthen  our 
position  very  much,  if  we  only  knew  what  particular  part 
of  the  agreement  the  Blausteins  are  likely  to  assail. 

ANDRIEV.  I  propose,  gentlemen,  that  when  M.  D'Or 
arrives  and  explains  the  Blaustein  views,  we  shall  take 
the  cue  from  one  of  our  own  number.  I  suggest  Sir 
Mortimer  as  the  leader  of  our  united  forces. 

PALLOT.  That  seems  to  be  most  desirable.  If  we  do 
not  stand  together  there  is  not  the  least  likelihood  of  our 
accomplishing  much  with  M.  D'Or. 

GRAEFFLINGEN.  I  heartily  concur  in  Count  Andriev's 
proposal.  We  must  keep  the  Blaustein  emissary  within 
bounds. 

MUIRHEAD.  Gentlemen,  I  appreciate  the  honor  that 
you  are  showing  me.  At  present  we  are  groping  in  the 
dark — we  do  not  as  yet  know  the  intentions  of  M.  D'Or. 

LOBEN.  [Warningly.']  Sh— h!!  [A  pause.  D'OR 
enters  at  the  left,  wearing  an  elaborate  diplomatic  uniform 
of  black  satin,  with  a  broad  gold  band  across  his  bosom.'] 

D'OR.  Good  afternoon,  gentlemen.  [Looking  about.] 
One  hardly  needs  introduction  to  such  a  distinguished 
group.  [He  shakes  hands.]  Sir  Mortimer,  you  are  look 
ing  well — Baron  Graefflingen — Marquis  Pallet — Count 
Andriev.  [He  stops  at  the  secretaries.'} 

MUIRHEAD.  Our  secretaries,  Mr.  Gilbert  and  Herr 
Loben. 

D'OR.  [Shaking  their  hands.]  It  gives  me  pleasure 
to  welcome  the  future  lights  of  diplomacy. 


96  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

GRAEFFLINGEN.  Perhaps  you  prefer  that  our  secre 
taries  retire  during  our  conference? 

D'OR.  Not  at  all,  Baron — not  at  all.  It  will  do  the 
young  men  good  to  be  present. 

ANDRIEV.     Are  we  safe  from  possible  eavesdroppers  ? 

D'OR.  [Remembering  CLAIRE.]  Certainly,  but  we 
can  assure  ourselves  by  locking  the  doors.  [He  locks  the 
door,  left,  and  the  central  doors.]  This  door  is  always 
kept  locked,  I  believe.  [He  goes  to  the  door,  right,  and 
very  deliberately  turns  the  knob  several  times.  The  others 
present  seem  satisfied.']  Shall  we  be  seated?  [They  take 
seats  at  the  central  table,  D'OR  at  the  right  end,  then 
MUIRHEAD,  PALLOT,  ANDRIEV,  and  GRAEFFLINGEN. 
GILBERT  sits  at  the  small  table,  right;  LOBEN  in  the  arm 
chair,  left.~\  Of  course,  we  shall  take  no  minutes  of  our 
deliberation — everything  is  informal  and  secret. 

GRAEFFLINGEN.  That  is  wise.  This  meeting  must 
be  regarded  as  absolutely  confidential  among  ourselves. 

ANDRIEV.  I  presume  that  it  is  agreed  that  no  notes 
shall  be  taken  by  any  one  present — 

THE  OTHERS.  Certainly — assuredly.  [GILBERT  starts 
from  his  seat  and  stares  ahead  of  him.~\ 

MUIRHEAD.     What  is  the  matter,  Mr.  Gilbert? 

GILBERT.  Nothing,  Sir  Mortimer.  Pardon  me,  I 
thought  I  heard  a  slight  creaking  noise.  I  was  mistaken ! 
[He  resumes  his  seat.  Throughout  the  scene  GILBERT 
pays  close  attention,  LOBEN  twiddles  his  thumbs  and 
yawns] 

MUIRHEAD.  [To  D'OR.]  Have  any  others  been  in 
vited,  or  is  the  group  now  complete? 

D'OR.     Quite  complete,  I  assure  you,  Sir  Mortimer. 


Ill  Monsieur  D'Or  97 

I  dislike  dealing  with  a  large  group  of  men.  A  few  sen 
sible  minds  gathered  around  a  table  can  best  transact  im 
portant  business.  You  have  not  been  chosen  at  random, 
gentlemen.  The  Blausteins  desired  the  leading  figure  in 
each  delegation  to  be  present  to-day  and  I  am  happy  to 
say  that  the  choice  has  fallen  upon  you. 

GRAEFFLINGEN.  You  are  very  complimentary,  M. 
D'Or. 

D'OR.  Not  at  all,  my  dear  Baron.  Men  like  your 
self  who  are  leaders  in  shaping  the  destinies  of  their  coun 
try  are  entitled  to  recognition  and  honor — but  to  come 
down  to  the  immediate  business  of  our  meeting.  You  are 
all  delegates  to  the  Geneva  Conference  which  assembles 
next  week.  Can  you  tell  me,  Sir  Mortimer,  what  the 
convention  is  expected  to  accomplish  ? 

MUIRHEAD.  From  the  program,  of  which  you  may 
have  seen  a  copy,  it  is  evident  that  the  principal  purpose 
is  to  consider  questions  concerning  international  arbitration 
and  to  effect  by  general  agreement  a  reduction  of  the 
active  military  forces  maintained  by  our  respective  gov 
ernments. 

D'OR.  The  first  is  a  laudable  object  and  I  believe  the 
Blausteins  are  in  hearty  accord  with  the  project.  As  for 
the  second — is  such  a  reduction  possible? 

MUIRHEAD.  Not  only  possible,  but  very  desirable; 
the  military  and  naval  budgets  are  the  most  serious  prob 
lems  that  concern  our  treasury  ministers. 

GRAEFFLINGEN.     There   is  widespread   dissatisfaction 

throughout  Europe  at  the  enormous  appropriation  of  funds 

for   military   purposes.     It    is   our   thought   that    if   the 

Geneva  Conference  cannot  effect   total  disarmament,   it 

7 


98  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

can  at  least  bring  about  a  material  reduction  in  equipment 
for  war. 

D'OR.  It  is  proper  that  you  should  not  misunderstand 
the  attitude  of  the  Blausteins  toward  this  great  question. 
They  do  not  desire  to  foment  strife  among  nations.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  they  would  not  permit  a  European  war  at 
this  time. 

ANDRIEV.  Would  not  permit  a  war !  Those  are  strong 
words,  M.  D'Or. 

D'OR.  [Smoothly.]  None  the  less,  the  older  diplomats 
present  will  assure  Count  Andriev  that  my  words  are  not 
stronger  than  the  case  warrants.  [He  looks  about.  There 
is  an  awkward  pause.]  I  am  sure  the  general  silence  is  the 
best  proof  of  my  assertion. 

PALLOT.  Pardon  my  remark,  M.  D'Or,  but  I  cannot 
understand  why  the  Blausteins  should  deprecate  warfare, 
yet  at  the  same  time  insist  that  the  nations  maintain  the 
highest  military  efficiency. 

D'OR.  It  was  to  explain  just  such  matters  as  you  have 
mentioned  that  our  little  meeting  of  this  afternoon  was 
arranged.  There  are  certain  things  that  cannot  be  openly 
discussed — 

MUIRHEAD.  One  moment,  M.  D'Or.  Are  you  cer 
tain  that  you  do  not  wish  our  secretaries  to  retire  before 
you  go  into  details  ? 

D'OR.  Assuredly  not,  Sir  Mortimer.  I  particularly 
desire  the  young  men  to  remain.  Diplomacy  has  many 
valuable  lessons  to  teach.  Here  they  can  learn  some  of 
them. 

GILBERT.     [Rising.]     I  should  much  prefer  to  retire  if — 

D'OR.     Nonsense !     I  want  you  to  remain — I  insist  on 


Ill  Monsieur  D'Or  99 

it!  [GILBERT  resumes  his  seat.]  You  are  aware,  gentle 
men,  of  the  extent  to  which  the  Blausteins  hold  the  bonds 
of  your  respective  governments,  but  there  is  another  side 
to  the  story.  A  government  does  not  borrow  money 
except  to  spend  it.  Now,  while  it  undoubtedly  pays  the 
Blausteins  to  lend  you  their  gold,  it  pays  them  still  better 
to  become  national  contractors  and  purveyors,  thus  getting 
back  much  of  the  actual  money  with  an  added  profit  in 
the  second  transaction. 

PALLOT.     By  which  you  mean — 

D'OR.  Simply  this,  gentlemen.  The  Blausteins  have 
secured  control  of  your  most  important  gun  factories, 
your  powder  works,  your  saltpeter  and  sulphur  deposits, 
your  mines.  They  control  the  firms  that  get  most  of  the 
contracts  for  the  erection  of  fortifications  and  for  furnish 
ing  the  munitions  of  war.  In  fact,  they  feed  and  clothe 
your  soldiers,  they  supply  the  horses — 

MUIRHEAD.     Can  this  be  possible? 

D'OR.  Why  should  it  surprise  you?  Is  it  not  the 
most  natural  thing  in  the  world?  The  vast  Blaustein 
millions  cannot  lie  idle  in  the  vaults.  Is  there  any  wonder 
that  with  the  accumulated  surplus  of  three  generations  of 
shrewd  financiering,  this  insuperable  power  reaches  out 
into  new  fields  to  secure  a  firmer  grasp  upon  the  forces  of 
civilization? 

MUIRHEAD.  M.  D'Or,  may  I  ask  you  to  state  pre 
cisely  what  the  Blausteins  desire  of  us,  as  far  as  the  Geneva 
Conference  is  concerned? 

D'OR.  Assuredly,  Sir  Mortimer.  The  Blausteins  are 
aware  that  the  Geneva  Conference  will  be  watched  with 
interest  throughout  the  civilized  world;  the  press  will 
report  its  proceedings  in  detail — 


ioo  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

ANDRIEV.  [Drily.']  But  not  these  proceedings — here, 
to-day ! 

D'OR.  No,  that  would  never  do.  We  must  not  give 
the  rabble  an  opportunity  to  peer  behind  the  scenes;  it 
might  interfere  with  the  public  performance.  The  Geneva 
Conference  is  presumably  a  gathering  to  foster  universal 
peace. 

GRAEFFLINGEN.     Presumably ! 

D'OR.  Certainly,  my  dear  Baron!  Can  anyone  pre 
dict  what  such  a  gathering  will  accomplish  until  the 
powers  have  sat  in  judgment  upon  it? 

PALLOT.  And  we  are  here  to  get  the  verdict  of  the 
real  powers  and  to  settle  the  fate  of  the  Geneva  Confer 
ence  a  full  week  before  it  begins ! 

D'OR.  You  are  unnecessarily  bitter,  gentlemen.  I  am 
surprised  to  find  such  strange  ideals  in  a  group  of  expe 
rienced  diplomats.  This  is  no  fairy-tale  world  in  which 
we  are  living — it  is  still  the  same  old,  wicked,  scandalous 
and  hopeless  Europe  that  it  has  always  been. 

MUIRHEAD.  I  am  afraid,  M.  D'Or,  that  you  are 
being  drawn  away  from  the  answer  to  my  question — 

D'OR.  Thank  you,  Sir  Mortimer — these  idealists  always 
make  trouble.  Now,  to  the  point.  What  the  Blausteins 
particularly  desire  is  that  the  Geneva  Conference  shall 
not  give  the  journalists  a  chance  to  become  rampant. 
Most  of  those  vexatious  pests  are  subsidized,  but  there  are 
always  reckless  fellows  who  have  nothing  to  lose  and  who 
are  ready  to  court  notoriety  upon  the  slightest  pretext. 
The  Blausteins  therefore  want  a  triumphant  victory  of 
the  peace  party  at  Geneva. 

THE  OTHERS.    [Astounded.]    The  peace  party ! 


Ill  Monsieur  D'Or  101 

D'OR.  You  misunderstand  me.  They  want  you  to 
talk  peace,  to  sing  peace,  to  shout  peace  till  you  are  ex 
hausted.  They  want  you  to  recommend  measures  advis 
ing  partial  reduction  of  military  equipment  and  eventual 
disarmament  in  all  countries,  but  at  the  same  time  they 
want  it  distinctly  understood  by  all  that  not  one  of  those 
recommendations  is  to  be  carried  out  at  present.  Just 
give  each  journalistic  dog  his  bone  to  gnaw,  and  when  all 
is  over,  things  will  go  on  as  they  are. 

MUIRHEAD.  [Seriously.]  Then  what  you  suggest,  M. 
D'Or,  is  that  we  should  go  through  the  farce  of  gathering 
at  Geneva  next  week  as  the  ostensible  delegates  of  our 
respective  governments,  that  we  should  adopt  those  splendid 
measures  that  appeal  to  all  of  us,  and  then,  to  please  the 
Blausteins,  we  should  nullify  the  work  of  the  Conference 
by  permitting  its  recommendations  to  become  a  dead  letter ! 
It  is  no  trifle  that  you  ask  of  us ! 

ANDRIEV.  [Warmly.]  Trifle!  He  is  asking  us  to 
become  the  Blaustein  puppets!  Are  we  here  to  take  his 
orders? 

D'OR.  [Smoothly.']  No,  no,  Count  Andriev — not 
orders.  I  am  not  here  to  issue  any  orders,  least  of  all  to 
such  eminent  diplomats  as  you.  I  am  simply  telling  you 
what  the  Blausteins  desire ;  the  rest  I  leave  in  your  hands. 
Perhaps  some  day  you  will  better  understand  the  signifi 
cance  of  the  name  of  Blaustein!  [GILBERT  springs  up 
with  a  cry  and  with  clenched  fists  stands  quivering  before 
D'OR,  ivho  has  also  risen.  MUIRHEAD  quickly  steps  be 
tween  them.] 

MUIRHEAD.  Mr.  Gilbert,  you  forget  your  place !  You 
owe  M.  D'Or  an  apology.  [The  others  have  risen.] 


102  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

GILBERT.  [Tensely.]  I — I  could  not  control  myself, 
Sir  Mortimer — 

D'OR.  [Suavely.]  Pray  do  not  take  this  seriously, 
Sir  Mortimer.  Your  secretary  owes  me  no  apology.  He 
did  a  very  natural  thing — I  respect  him  for  it.  [GILBERT 
drops  heavily  into  his  chair  holding  his  head  in  his  hands. 
D'OR  watches  him  curiously.  The  rest  resume  their 
seats.  LOBEN  twiddles  his  thumbs.']  Of  course,  it  is  very 
unpleasant — this  mission  of  mine.  You  can  readily  see 
that  the  Blausteins  must  protect  their  interests.  We  are 
showing  you  how  you  can  satisfy  the  clamors  of  your 
people  and  silence  the  criticism  of  your  newspapers  by 
ostensibly  complying  with  the  popular  demand.  After 
all,  the  execution  of  your  recommendations  rests  with 
others ;  you  will  do  your  duty  at  the  conference. 

ANDRIEV.  Do  you  imagine  that  the  people  will  tolerate 
this  sort  of  trickery  forever? 

D'OR.  Why  not?  The  government  that  cannot  con 
trol  its  masses  by  throwing  them  an  occasional  sop  is  a 
confessed  failure — it  deserves  to  fall.  Count  Andriev, 
your  civic  authorities  have  a  most  efficient  ally  in  that 
universal  force  known  as  human  nature.  When  your 
aristocrats  engage  against  the  rabble  in  that  great  game 
of  skill  popularly  known  as  maintaining  the  government 
it  is  your  own  fault  if  you  do  not  win ;  the  dice  are  always 
loaded  in  your  favor. 

ANDRIEV.  Suppose  we  should  refuse  to  be  parties  to 
your  plan? 

D'OR.  [Looking  around.]  If  you  personally  are  eager 
to  defy  the  Blausteins,  you  will  probably  find  that  the  rest 
of  the  gentlemen  present  are  not  similarly  inclined.  [An 
uneasy  silence.] 


Ill  Monsieur  D'Or  103 

ANDRIEV.  [Bitterly. ~]  Evidently,  you  are  right !  Heaven 
help  the  nations  that  have  to  take  orders  from  the  Blau- 
steins!  Is  there  anything  further,  M.  D'Or? 

D'OR.  Nothing  except  that  I  wish  to  express  my  thanks 
to  all  of  you  for  meeting  me  here  this  afternoon.  I  hope 
that  we  part  as  friends? 

PALLOT.  Assuredly,  M.  D'Or.  We  must  remember 
that  you  are  merely  the  representative  of  the  Blausteins 
and  in  no  sense  personally  responsible  for  the  policy  which 
they  have  adopted.  It  would  be  absurd  to  harbor  any 
personal  resentment  against  you.  [Offers  his  hand.]  I 
wish  you  good  afternoon! 

ANDRIEV.  [Likewise  shakes  hands]  I  have  used  hard 
words  here  this  afternoon — they  were  intended  for  the 
Blausteins,  not  for  M.  D'Or.  Good-day!  [D'OR  un 
locks  the  central  doors,  and  PALLOT  and  ANDRIEV  go  off 
together] 

D'OR.  [To  GRAEFFLINGEN.]  Well,  Baron,  are  you 
as  kindly  disposed  as  these  others?  [They  shake  hands. 
He  turns  to  LOBEN.]  I  suppose  you  have  learned  a  new 
lesson  in  the  science  of  diplomacy? 

LOBEN.  [Wearily]  Bless  you,  no  indeed!  I  have 
been  in  diplomacy  for  seventeen  years;  I  have  become 
hardened  to  such  incidents  as  this.  It's  getting  a  bit 
monotonous.  I  wish  there  were  some  new  forms  of  polit 
ical  corruption — they  might  prove  interesting! 

D'OR.  I  congratulate  you,  Baron,  on  your  very  blase 
secretary.  Such  a  man  must  be  a  treasure  in  your  pro 
fession. 

GRAEFFLINGEN.  Good  afternoon,  M.  D'Or.  [To 
MUIRHEAD.]  Sir  Mortimer,  do  you  remain  at  Interlaken  ? 


104  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

MUIRHEAD.  No,  I  leave  for  Lucerne  this  evening.  I 
shall  spend  a  few  days  at  the  Kaiserhof  before  going  to 
Geneva. 

GRAEFFLINGEN.  I  was  about  to  ask  you  to  dine  with 
me.  I  am  sorry  you  are  leaving  so  soon.  Good  after 
noon!  [LoBEN  has  meanwhile  shaken  hands  with  GIL 
BERT  and  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder  as  a  sign  of  appro 
val.  GILBERT  stands  in  dejection.  GRAEFFLINGEN  and 
LOBEN  pass  out  together.] 

MUIRHEAD.  In  taking  leave,  M.  D'Or,  I  still  feel 
that  Mr.  Gilbert  owes  you  an  explanation  for  his  very 
remarkable  conduct.  I  am  sorry  the  incident  happened. 

D'OR.  [After  a  pause.]  Perhaps  you  are  right,  Sir 
Mortimer.  Won't  you  permit  Mr.  Gilbert  to  remain  for 
a  few  moments  when  you  go?  We  can  talk  the  matter 
over  between  ourselves. 

MUIRHEAD.  Mr.  Gilbert,  you  hear  what  M.  D'Or 
has  said.  You  may  rejoin  me  later  at  the  hotel.  Good 
day.  [They  shake  hands  and  MUIRHEAD  goes  off.] 

D'OR.  [Very  pleasantly]  Mr.  Gilbert,  Sir  Mortimer 
has  made  it  easy  for  me  to  have  a  confidential  chat  with 
you.  I  am  indebted  to  him  for  it.  I  had  no  idea  when 
I  entered  this  room  that  I  should  meet  such  an  interesting 
personality  as  yourself. 

GILBERT.  Sir  Mortimer  is  right.  I  owe  you  an  apology 
and  I  make  it  freely.  I  should  have  known  my  place. 

D'OR.  That  is  not  the  point.  I  want  to  know  why 
you  made  that  outcry? 

GILBERT.     I  would  rather  not  answer  that  question. 

D'OR.  I  feel  as  if  I  have  a  right  to  insist  upon  an 
answer,  Mr.  Gilbert. 


Ill  Monsieur  D'Or  105 

GILBERT.  Perhaps  you  have.  May  I  give  the  expla 
nation  in  my  own  way? 

D'OR.  By  all  means!  Let  us  sit  down.  [They  take 
seats f  centred]  Do  you  smoke?  [He  offers  a  cigar.~\ 

GILBERT.  No,  thank  you.  [D'OR  lights  his  own 
cigar.~\  M.  D'Or,  I  sought  the  appointment  as  Sir  Morti 
mer's  secretary  because  I  believed  it  would  prove  an  open 
ing  to  a  diplomatic  career. 

D'OR.     Quite  right — a  very  good  opening! 

GILBERT.  At  that  time  I  regarded  diplomacy  as  my 
life-work.  I  dreamed  of  participating  in  the  great  affairs 
of  state,  of  helping  in  my  own  small  way  to  mould  the 
history  of  our  own  day  and  generation.  The  diplomat 
seemed  to  be  so  important  a  figure,  so  essentially  a  ser 
vant  of  the  state  that  I  was  dazzled  at  the  thought  of 
serving  my  country  in  that  way.  And  now — [He  pauses.] 

D'OR.     Now  you  think  otherwise? 

GILBERT.  Until  to-day  I  regarded  Sir  Mortimer  Muir- 
head  as  one  of  the  most  enviable  of  men.  Now  I  pity 
him — from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.  Kindly  stop  me  if  I 
offend — 

D'OR.     Go  on.     I  want  to  hear  all  you  have  to  say. 

GILBERT.  I  learned  this  afternoon  how  hopelessly  a 
man  may  be  fettered  in  his  efforts  to  serve  his  fellow  men. 
To  an  experienced  man  like  yourself  it  must  be  apparent 
how  unfit  I  am  for  the  profession  I  have  chosen. 

D'OR.     Why  were  you  so  distressed  to-day? 

GILBERT.  Picture  a  group  of  distinguished  diplomats, 
representing  the  leading  nations  of  Europe,  gathered  in 
secret  conclave  to  hear  the  commands  of  a  coterie  of  money- 
barons,  and,  what  is  worse,  yielding  to  those  commands  in 


io6  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

spite  of  their  own  convictions!  It  is  enough  to  make 
one's  blood  boil! 

D'OR.  You  forget,  Mr.  Gilbert,  that  they  are  prac 
tical  men  of  affairs.  They  know  the  power  of  the  money- 
barons,  as  you  choose  to  call  them,  and  they  act  accord 
ingly.  A  modern  nation  cannot  afford  to  entrust  its 
affairs  to  idealists  and  dreamers. 

GILBERT.  Apparently  not;  but  what  of  the  national 
honor  ?  Do  these  secret  compromises  never  become  public  ? 
What  can  the  reputable  people  of  a  great  nation  think 
when  its  rulers  stoop  to  curry  favor  with  the  rich  and 
powerful  ? 

D'OR.  My  young  friend,  you  have  a  distorted  image 
in  your  mind ;  I  advise  you  to  set  it  right.  Who  are  your 
reputable  people  who  are  to  cavil  at  those  who  seek  wealth 
or  the  influence  that  wealth  affords  ?  How  many  of  your 
apparently  reputable  people  are  not  themselves  engaged  in 
the  pursuit  of  wealth  by  every  method,  direct  or  devious, 
that  lies  within  their  power?  Look  about  you,  Mr.  Gil 
bert,  and  examine  your  fellow  man  a  little  more  closely. 
Don't  place  him  on  a  pedestal.  He's  a  corrupt  specimen 
of  creation  when  you  get  to  know  him  thoroughly. 

GILBERT.  [Hotly.~\  What  makes  him  corrupt  but  the 
fact  that  there  are  forces  of  evil  abroad  to  tempt  him — 

D'OR.     [Smiling.]     Like  myself,  for  example? 

GILBERT.  Some  men  are  not  strong  enough  to  resist 
temptation.  You  know  that,  M.  D'Or.  The  shame  of 
it  is  that  men  like  you  take  advantage  of  it. 

D'OR.  Nonsense,  Mr.  Gilbert.  We  corrupt  none  of 
them.  If  need  be  we  ascertain  the  price  of  their  corrup 
tion,  but  there  our  responsibility  ends.  The  work  of  the 


Ill  Monsieur  D'Or  107 

world  must  be  accomplished.  We  cannot  have  men  pull 
ing  in  all  directions  at  once.  There  must  be  some  har 
mony  of  action  to  achieve  results.  If  any  one  impedes  the 
progress  of  a  great  plan,  it  is  policy  to  buy  him  off;  if  he 
refuses  to  yield  he  must  be  swept  out  of  the  way.  Usually 
he  is  too  wise  to  resist — he  takes  his  price  and  withdraws 
gracefully.  The  world  is  waiting  to  be  bought. 

GILBERT.  There  is  one  thing  I  cannot  understand,  M. 
D'Or — why  do  you  tell  me  these  things? 

D'OR.  Because  I  take  an  interest  in  you.  I  should 
like  to  see  you  make  something  of  your  career.  A  few 
moments  ago  there  were  four  prominent  diplomats  in  this 
room  who  did  me  the  honor  to  confer  upon  the  important 
question  that  you  heard  discussed,  yet  for  this  quartette 
of  notables  I  have  infinitely  less  respect  than  I  have  for 
you.  I  took  real  pleasure  in  your  outburst  of  disapproval. 

GILBERT.  But  they  all  opposed  you,  particularly  Count 
Andriev. 

D'OR.  Yes,  but  they  all  yielded  at  last — that  is  the 
fact  that  makes  them  contemptible  in  my  eyes.  Mr.  Gil 
bert,  may  I  ask  what  salary  Sir  Mortimer  pays  you  for 
acting  as  his  secretary? 

GILBERT.     Five  hundred  pounds. 

D'OR.  If  I  were  to  offer  you  a  thousand  pounds  to 
become  my  secretary,  would  you  accept? 

GILBERT.     No ! 

D'OR.  If  I  were  to  make  it  five  thousand  pounds, 
would  you  listen  to  the  offer? 

GILBERT.     No,  M.  D'Or! 

D'OR.  If  I  were  to  discover  that  the  Blausteins  needed 
an  eminently  trustworthy  agent  and  that  you  fulfilled  the 


io8  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

requirements  exactly,  would  you  consider  a  salary  of  ten 
thousand  pounds? 

GILBERT.     Never ! 

D'OR.  [Puffing  his  cigar  .coolly.']  I  knew  it!  That's 
why  you  interest  me — you  are  a  human  curiosity.  A  few, 
years  ago  I  was  ready  to  declare  there  were  no  such  men 
in  existence.  Remember,  I  have  not  insulted  you  by 
really  making  the  offer  that  I  put  just  now.  I  pride 
myself  that  I  read  your  character  aright  and  knew  the 
offer  would  be  rejected. 

GILBERT.     Are  such  offers  ever  made  seriously? 

D'OR.  Certainly,  if  the  man  is  worth  it.  Such  mat 
ters  are  always  subject  to  the  dictates  of  reason. 

GILBERT.  I  now  realize  the  source  of  your  overwhelm 
ing  power.  I  have  learned  something  from  this  interview 
— I  shall  not  give  up  diplomacy. 

D'OR.     Will  you  remain  Sir  Mortimer's  secretary? 

GILBERT.  Yes,  for  the  present.  If  I  am  one  of  the 
few  of  whom  you  speak  so  highly,  my  country  needs  me 
and  I  intend  to  remain  in  her  service. 

D'OR.  [Smiling.']  There  speaks  the  patriot!  Be 
careful,  my  friend,  to  avoid  tight  places,  so  that  you  may 
not  have  to  yield  to  the  tempter  one  of  these  days.  [They 
rise.]  May  I  wish  you  success  in  your  career?  [He  ex 
tends  his  hand.] 

GILBERT.  [Painfully.]  M.  D'Or,  I  don't  want  to 
insult  you  again — but — I'd  rather  not  shake  your  hand. 

D'OR.  [With  assumed  indifference^]  Just  as  you 
wish — it  is  better  that  we  should  understand  each  other 
exactly.  Perhaps  I  should  feel  offended,  but  I  don't — 
I'm  not  going  to  quarrel  with  you.  I  wish  you  success 


Ill  Monsieur  D'Or  109 

just  the  same.  You  may  be  right,  after  all — you  young 
fellows  have  a  great  deal  of  enthusiasm.  There  ought  to 
be  more  like  you. 

GILBERT.  [Eagerly.]  M.  D'Or,  there's  a  real  strain 
of  good  in  you — why  don't  you  give  it  a  chance? 

D'OR.  [Uneasily.]  I  may  change  my  mind  some  day. 
If  I  do,  I  shall  remember  you,  Mr.  Gilbert — 

GILBERT.  [Seizes  D'OR's  hand  and  looks  squarely  in 
his  eyes.]  I  hope  so,  M.  D'Or — I  hope  so!  Good-bye! 
[He  goes  out.] 

D'OR.  [Places  his  cigar  on  the  table  and  looks  toward 
the  central  door.]  I'd  give  my  fortune  for  that  man's  out 
look  on  life!  [CLAIRE  enters  silently  at  the  right,  hold 
ing  her  notes  in  her  hand.  She  looks  curiously  at  D'OR.] 

CLAIRE.  Well — there  are  some  honorable  people,  after 
all! 

D'OR.  [Turning  quickly.']  What!  I  must  confess  I 
had  quite  forgotten  that  you  were  in  the  next  room.  You 
heard  everything? 

CLAIRE.     [Drily.]     Yes — and  profited  by  it,  too! 

D'OR.     You  have  a  verbatim  report? 

CLAIRE.  Everything;  even  your  interesting  little  chat 
with  Mr.  Gilbert. 

D'OR.  See  here,  mademoiselle — that  has  no  place  in 
the  report.  Kindly  let  me  have  those  sheets. 

CLAIRE.  Never  fear,  M.  D'Or — the  Blausteins  will 
never  see  any  part  of  this  report? 

D'OR.     What  do  you  mean! 

CLAIRE.  I  intend  to  destroy  every  line  that  I  wrote  in 
that  room.  I  heard  what  Mr.  Gilbert  said.  I  will  no 
longer  be  the  servile  spy  of  the  Blausteins ! 


no  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

D'OR.  {With  a  sneer]  Ah!  Virtue  seems  to  be  con 
tagious. 

CLAIRE.     There  are  always  immunes. 

D'OR.  Your  tongue  has  not  lost  its  cunning,  in  spite 
of  your  moral  awakening.  So  you  won't  let  me  have  the 
notes  ? 

CLAIRE.  Not  unless  you  take  them  by  force.  {With 
determination.']  I  warn  you,  I  shall  not  give  them  up 
tamely. 

D'OR.  Calm  yourself.  You  forget  the  Blaustein  maxim, 
'Above  all  things,  no  public  scandal.'  I  shall  not  make 
the  least  effort  to  obtain  those  notes  without  your  consent. 

CLAIRE.     Thank  you.     May  I  go? 

D'OR.  [Earnestly.]  Mile.  Lasalle,  I  will  give  you 
five  thousand  francs  for  those  notes. 

CLAIRE.     {Frightened!}     Please  let  me  pass ! 

D'OR.     Ten  thousand  francs — for  the  notes. 

CLAIRE.  How  dare  you!  [A  pause.]  Remember  Mr. 
Gilbert! 

D'OR.  [With  a  start,  then  quietly. ]  Mademoiselle, 
will  you  give  me  those  notes  at  your  own  price  if  I  promise 
to  destroy  them — now,  here,  before  your  eyes  ? 

CLAIRE.  [After  a  pause]  I  shall  give  them  to  you  on 
one  condition. 

D'OR.     Name  it. 

CLAIRE.  [Slowly.]  That  you  don't  ask  me  to  touch 
any  more  Blaustein  money.  I'm  trying  to  do  a  decent 
thing  this  time. 

D'OR.  [With  admiration]  I  understand.  You  have 
my  promise.  [CLAIRE  fixes  her  gaze  on  D'OR,  and  hands 
over  the  sheets.  He  keeps  his  eyes  on  her  as  he  tears  the 


Ill  Monsieur  D'Or  in 

notes  into  tiny  scraps  which  fall  on  the  table.  He  gathers 
up  the  scraps  and  throws  them  Into  the  fire.] 

CLAIRE.    [Earnestly.]    We  two  are  not  entirely  hopeless. 

D'OR.     [Still  gazing  at  her.]     Not  after  this! 

CLAIRE.  We  are  not  likely  to  meet  again.  I  am  going 
to  some  remote  corner  of  the  earth — to  try  to  forget  the 
past.  The  Blausteins  shall  never  hear  of  me  again.  Let 
us  make  one  good  resolution  before  we  part. 

D'OR.     What  shall  it  be? 

CLAIRE.     Let  us  both  try  to  remember  Mr.  Gilbert! 

D'OR.  I  shall  never  forget  Mr.  Gilbert — [Extending 
his  hand.]  nor  Mile.  Claire  Lasalle,  stenographer! 

CLAIRE.  [Taking  his  hand.]  Good-bye,  M.  D'Or! 
[She  hurries  out  at  the  centre.  D'OR  looks  after  her  for 
a  moment,  then  snatches  the  gold  band  from  across  his 
bosom  and  dashes  it  on  the  table  with  a  gesture  of  disgust. 
He  drops  into  a  chair  as  the  curtain  falls.] 


SCENE  IV 

[A  sombre,  darkly  furnished  room  in  a  Balkan  palace. 
There  are  wooden  panels  and  heavy  gold  hangings;  also 
a  window,  left,  a  door,  right,  and  large  double  doors, 
centre.  At  the  left  there  is  a  table  on  which  is  a  lamp 
with  a  dull  gold  shade.  Nearby  are  an  armchair,  a  foot- 
rest  and  a  smaller  chair.  At  the  right  there  is  a  small  table 
with  two  chairs.  Against  the  walls  are  several  quaint 
high-backed  chairs  and  a  curious  medieval  stove.  As  the 
curtain  rises,  D'OR  is  in  the  armchair  asleep.  He  wears 
a  dark  dressing  gown  with  deep  gold  borders  and  em 
broidery.  He  still  has  his  gold  rings.  The  window  at 
the  left  is  open  and  from  the  outside  come  the  plaintive 
notes  of  a  shepherd's  pipe.  The  light  is  that  of  early 
evening.  EDITH  PACKARD,  dressed  as  a  nurse,  enters  at 
the  right.  She  feels  D'OR's  pulse  and  tiptoes  noiselessly 
about.  She  places  fresh  golden  flowers  in  a  vase  on  the 
smaller  table,  then  lights  the  lamp  at  the  larger  table  and 
turns  the  flame  low.  After  tidying  the  room  a  bit,  she 
takes  another  look  at  D'OR,  feels  his  forehead  lightly  and 
goes  off,  right.  The  shepherd's  pipe  is  silenced.  There 
is  a  sudden  flash  of  lightning  at  the  open  window  and  the 
distant  rumble  of  thunder.] 

D'OR.  [In  his  sleep.]  Not  Death !  Not  Death !  I've 
bought  off  Death  for  a  time!  Not  yet!  [He  awakes 
with  a  start]  Miss  Packard!  I've  been  dreaming  hor 
ribly  again!  [He  looks  about  anxiously]  Miss  Packard! 
Has  Dr.  Mirsky  arrived  ?  [Listens  for  reply]  They  take 


IV  Monsieur  D'Or  113 

my  money,  yet  they're  not  here  when  I  need  them  most. 
[He  experiences  a  convulsive  spasm  and  is  unable  to  articu 
late  Miss  PACKARD'S  name,  though  he  makes  a  painful 
effort  to  do  so.  He  rises  heavily  from  his  chair  and  stag 
gers  to  the  bell  rope  near  the  door,  right.  He  manages  to 
pull  it  and  falls  in  a  faint  over  the  chair  standing  near. 
Lightning  and  distant  thunder.  EDITH  rushes  in  and  rubs 
his  wrists.  He  revives  and  she  succeeds  in  getting  him  to 
the  table,  right. } 

D'OR.  [Bewildered.}  Where  am  I?  Yes — I  remem 
ber — I  called — 

EDITH.  You  were  sleeping  peacefully  when  I  left  the 
room  a  moment  ago ! 

D'OR.     Not  peacefully !     I  never  sleep  peacefully. 

EDITH.     Do  you  feel  any  better? 

D'OR.     Worse — much  worse !     How  long  did  I  sleep  ? 

EDITH.     Over  three  hours.     It  is  past  six  o'clock. 

D'OR.  Evening  already !  Another  day  gone !  [Lightning. 
EDITH  starts  to  close  the  window.  It  thunders  as  she 
looks  out.} 

EDITH.  Oh!  M.  D'Or,  a  terrible  storm  is  approach 
ing!  The  whole  valley  is  filled  with  black  clouds! 
[Lightning.'} 

D'OR.  Close  that  window  quickly!  I  cannot  bear 
lightning.  [She  closes  it  amid  thunder.}  Another  storm! 
I  shall  lie  awake  all  night!  [Groans.}  Hasn't  Dr. 
Mirsky  arrived  ? 

EDITH.  No,  he  has  not  come.  Perhaps  the  storm  will 
prevent  his  getting  here  to-night. 

D'OR.  I  must  see  the  doctor — he  must  come  to-night! 
He  takes  my  money;  he  should  be  at  my  beck  and  call.  I 

8 


ii4  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

need  him  now — I  may  die  before  morning.  Is  there  no 
one  at  the  palace  whom  you  can  send  to  the  village? 
[Heavy  thunder.] 

EDITH.     Cyril  is  downstairs. 

D'OR.  The  gardener's  son?  I'll  not  send  the  boy  on 
such  a  night  as  this.  Perhaps  Mirsky  will  get  here  after 
all. 

EDITH.     He  should  come. 

D'OR.  I  pay  him  well  enough,  eh?  I  pay  you  well, 
Miss  Packard  ?  I  pay  everybody  well.  I  may  be  feeble, 
but  I  still  have  my  gold.  It  serves  me  yet!  [Thunder.] 

EDITH.     Do  you  care  for  something  to  eat? 

D'OR.  No,  I  have  no  appetite.  I  am  an  unhappy 
creature.  Turn  up  the  lamp,  Miss  Packard — it  is  too 
gloomy.  I  can  scarcely  see.  [She  turns  up  the  lamp. 
D'OR  notices  the  flowers.]  Why  are  those  wilted  flowers 
on  the  table? 

EDITH.  They  do  seem  wilted — yet  they  were  quite 
fresh  when  I  brought  them  in  a  few  minutes  ago.  [Thun 
der.]  Perhaps  the  storm — 

D'OR.  Nonsense!  A  storm  cannot  affect  cut  flowers! 
They  must  have  been  dying  when  you  brought  them  in. 
[Raises  their  drooping  heads.]  Dying !  Dying — their  golden 
beauty  waning — a  few  hours  more  and  all  will  be  over! 
[Groans.]  I  must  see  Mirsky!  I  feel  wretched  to-night. 
Look  down  the  road,  Miss  Packard,  and  see  if  there  are 
any  signs  of  the  doctor's  carriage.  He  would  not  come 
on  foot  to-night.  [EDITH  opens  the  window.  Lightning 
and  a  wild  blast  of  wind.  D'OR  covers  his  eyes  and 
groans.] 

EDITH.  [Peering  out.]  It  is  too  dark  to  see  far — but 
the  road  seems  quite  deserted.  [Thunder.] 


IV  Monsieur  D'Or  115 

D'OR.  Quick!  Close  the  window!  [EDITH  does  so.] 
Even  Mirsky  fails  me  when  I  need  him  most.  He  shall 
hear  from  me  to-morrow—  [A  pause.]  if  I  am  still  alive. 
Have  you  had  your  dinner? 

EDITH.  No,  but  there's  no  hurry — I  do  not  wish  to 
leave  you  alone. 

D'OR.  Get  your  dinner  by  all  means.  You  are  young 
and  healthy — you  can  enjoy  it.  Send  up  Cyril  to  keep 
me  company;  I  like  the  boy. 

EDITH.  Very  well.  Is  there  nothing  else  I  can  do 
for  you? 

D'OR.  [More  softly.]  Nothing,  Miss  Packard.  You 
are  very  kind  to  me.  Are  you  satisfied  in  this  Balkan 
wilderness  ?  Am  I  paying  you  enough  for  coming  to  this 
desolate  region? 

EDITH.  Don't  say  such  things.  I  am  a  nurse — it  is 
my  duty  to  serve  you.  Besides,  you  have  been  very  gen 
erous  to  me. 

D'OR.  Thank  you.  Run  along  now — and  don't  for 
get  to  send  up  Cyril.  [She  goes  off,  centre.  D'OR  looks 
nervously  about  him,  holds  his  hand  over  his  heart,  then 
draws  himself  slowly  up  and  goes  to  the  window  to  peer 
out.  Seeing  nothing  he  opens  it.  A  furious  downpour 
of  rain  is  heard,  then  a  flash  of  lightning  half-blinds  him. 
He  closes  the  window  with  a  loud  bang.]  No  hope  of 
Mirsky  to-night.  Even  my  money  won't  bring  him  out 
on  such  a  night  as  this.  [He  walks  slowly  to  the  arm 
chair.]  If  he  does  not  come,  I  shall  be  dead  before  sunrise ! 
CYRIL.  [Putting  in  his  head,  centre.]  May  I  come  in, 
M.  D'Or? 


n6  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

D'OR.  [Brightening.]  Cyril!  By  all  means!  Come 
in,  my  boy!  [He  resumes  his  seat.~\ 

CYRIL.     Miss  Packard  said  you  wouldn't  be  angry. 

D'OR.  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you.  What  have  you 
been  doing  all  day? 

CYRIL.  I  have  been  exploring  along  the  other  side  of 
the  river.  I  left  the  palace  this  morning  at  five  o'clock 
and  joined  some  boys  in  the  village.  We  tramped  for 
several  miles  along  the  river,  then  crossed  the  bridge  at 
Arak  and  went  into  the  woods. 

D'OR.  It  must  have  been  delightful.  You  started  at 
five  o'clock? 

CYRIL.  Yes,  it  was  still  dark.  I  saw  the  sun  rise 
from  the  Hadderberg.  By  dinner  time  we  were  over  ten 
miles  beyond  Arak. 

D'OR.     How  did  you  get  home  so  quickly? 

CYRIL.  Oh !  we  saw  the  storm  coming — at  first  it  was 
a  little  speck  of  black  cloud  floating  far  off  in  the  sky  be 
yond  the  mountain  range.  We  hurried  through  the  woods 
and  reached  home  a  half-hour  ago. 

D'OR.  You  must  have  had  a  glorious  tramp.  Did 
you  do  any  hunting? 

CYRIL.  Oh  no!  The  season  has  not  opened  yet — we 
shall  go  hunting  later  on.  M.  D'Or,  did  you  ever  take 
such  trips  when  you  were  a  boy?  [Rumbling  thunder.] 

D'OR.  No,  I  never  had  such  sport.  I  didn't  live  near 
the  mountains  and  the  forests. 

CYRIL.  [Sits  on  the  foot  rest  at  D'OR'S  feet.~\  How 
do  the  boys  in  your  country  spend  their  time? 

D'OR.  The  most  sensible  spend  their  time  in  learning 
how  to  make  money. 


IV  Monsieur  D'Or  117 

CYRIL.     Do  they  need  much  money  when  they  grow  up  ? 

D'OR.  Nearly  all  of  them  think  they  need  more  than 
they  have. 

CYRIL.     What  do  they  buy  with  their  money  ? 

D'OR.  Whatever  they  think  they  want.  What  would 
you  buy  if  you  had  twenty  florins  ? 

CYRIL.  A  pair  of  hunting  boots  and  a  new  knife. 
[He  pulls  out  his  knife.']  Not  a  cheap  knife,  like  this 
one — but  one  with  si.x  silver  bands  on  the  handle. 

D'OR.     Why  six  bands? 

CYRIL.  Because  my  friend  Boris  has  one  with  five 
bands  and  his  knife  is  the  finest  in  the  village. 

D'OR.  Ah!  I  see!  And  what  would  you  buy  if  you 
had  fifty  florins? 

CYRIL.  Fifty  florins!  [After  a  pause.']  I  wouldn't 
buy  anything.  I'd  save  until  I  had  a  hundred. 

D'OR.     [Interested.']     And  then — 

CYRIL.  Then  I  would  buy  a  handsome  rifle  such  as  I 
saw  in  a  shop  window  in  Buda-Pesth.  Were  you  ever  in 
Buda-Pesth? 

D'OR.  Yes,  Cyril.  I've  seen  those  fine  shops.  Now, 
isn't  it  pleasant  to  think  that  you  can  go  into  such  a  shop 
with  a  pocket  full  of  money  and  pick  out  anything  you 
want? 

CYRIL.     Yes — it's  like  a  fairy-tale. 

D'OR.  [Drily.']  Well,  that's  why  the  boys  in  my 
country  learn  how  to  make  money! 

CYRIL.  [With  enthusiasm. ,]  And  when  they  have  it, 
they  go  to  the  shops  and  buy  what  they  wanted  ? 

D'OR.  No ;  by  that  time  they  have  usually  lost  interest 
in  what  they  wanted — and  then  they  desire  something 
which  they  cannot  buy. 


n8  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

CYRIL.     Then  it  isn't  much  fun  after  all  ? 

D'OR.  [Stroking  CYRIL'S  hair.]  No,  it  isn't  much  fun. 
You  have  something  better  than  money,  Cyril.  You  have 
youth  and  health — be  careful  how  you  spend  them.  You 
wouldn't  sell  them  at  any  price,  would  you? 

CYRIL.     How  can  one  sell  youth,  M.  D'Or? 

D'OR.  By  doing  foolish  things  and  by  wasting  the 
precious  hours  of  early  manhood — that  is  how  one  sells 
youth.  I  want  you  to  realize  how  very  rich  you  are, 
even  if  you  haven't  enough  money  to  buy  that  new  rifle. 
[The  noise  of  carriage  wheels  is  heard.]  Do  you  hear  a 
carriage?  Can  it  be  Dr.  Mirsky,  after  all? 

CYRIL.  [Opens  the  window.]  Yes,  it  is  the  doctor — 
and  another  man  with  him  in  a  long  white  robe — a  strange- 
looking  man! 

D'OR.     You  see  very  well  in  the  dark,  Cyril ! 

CYRIL.  I  have  good  eyes;  father  calls  them  forester's 
eyes. 

D'OR.     Is  it  still  raining? 

CYRIL.  [Puts  out  his  hand.]  A  little,  but  the  worst 
is  over.  The  clouds  are  breaking. 

D'OR.  I  am  glad  of  it;  you  may  leave  the  window 
open.  [Enter  MIRSKY  at  centre.] 

MIRSKY.  Good  evening,  M.  D'Or!  I'm  a  bit  late 
to-night  on  account  of  this  cursed  storm — I  never  expe 
rienced  such  weather  before.  The  road  to  the  palace  is 
a  veritable  river!  At  every  turn  a  fresh  torrent  bursts 
over  it.  How  do  you  feel? 

D'OR.  Fairly  well  since  Cyril  has  been  keeping  me 
company,  but  I  felt  miserable  before — I  feared  you  would 
not  come. 


IV  Monsieur  D'Or  119 

MIRSKY.  Not  come  for  such  a  patron  as  M.  D'Or! 
My  dear  sir,  I  would  have  come  ff  it  had  been  necessary 
to  swim  to  the  palace ! 

CYRIL.  [Laughing.']  People  don't  swim  up  hills,  Dr. 
Mirsky. 

MIRSKY.  No,  and  well-behaved  boys  don't  make  im 
pertinent  remarks  to  their  elders. 

D'OR.  Cyril  tells  me  you  had  a  companion  i.n  your 
carriage. 

MIRSKY.  Yes — the  queerest  fellow  I've  ever  come 
across.  I  picked  him  up  on  the  road  just  beyond  the  vil 
lage.  He  had  sought  shelter  under  a  tree  but  I  saw  he 
would  be  drenched  if  he  remained  there  long  enough — to 
say  nothing  of  the  danger  from  lightning.  He's  a  sort  of 
oriental  sage — calls  himself  Ramanand.  I  expect  to  take 
him  back  to  the  village  when  I  leave  and  have  a  chat  with 
him  to-night. 

D'OR.  I  am  interested  in  your  find!  Can't  we  have 
him  up  here? 

MIRSKY.  I  turned  him  over  to  Miss  Packard— I 
believe  he  is  drying  out  at  the  kitchen  fire.  Cyril,  run 
along  and  fetch  up  the  philosopher. 

CYRIL.  [Meekly.]  Very  well,  doctor.  I  hope  you 
will  forgive  me  for  my  impertinence  just  now — 

MIRSKY.  [Clapping  his  shoulder.]  Impertinence,  my 
boy  ?  It  was  the  truth.  As  you  say,  people  do  not  swim 
up  hill.  [CYRIL  laughs  and  runs  off,  centre.  MIRSKY 
turns  to  D'OR.]  Well,  how  is  my  patient?  [Feels  his 
pulse.]  Still  feverish  and  unsettled — appetite  poor — all 
out  of  sorts,  eh? 


120  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

D'OR.  Doctor,  I  feel  like  a  man  whose  life  is  ebbing 
away.  I  had  a  horrible  seizure  this  evening.  It's  all  up 
with  me.  I've  been  burning  the  candle  at  both  ends  all 
my  life.  I  have  crowded  more  experience  into  my  forty 
years  than  properly  belongs  there — that's  all! 

MIRSKY.  My  dear  M.  D'Or,  you  talk  like  a  man 
who  is  preparing  for  another  world,  yet  you  are  paying 
me  handsomely  to  keep  you  here.  One  can  hardly  regard 
such  remarks  as  complimentary — 

D'OR.  True  enough,  doctor,  but  there's  no  power  of 
resistance  left  in  me.  I've  been  fighting  Death  for  some 
time  and  now  I  have  only  one  real  weapon  left — 

MIRSKY.     [Surprised.]     One  weapon? 

D'OR.  Yes,  my  money!  Youth  and  health  are  gone, 
and  I  have  long  since  turned  my  back  upon  my  few  friends 
— but  my  money  is  still  my  faithful  slave.  It  has  provided 
me  this  airy  retreat  in  the  Balkans,  it  has  brought  me 
such  a  devoted  nurse  as  Miss  Packard,  such  a  skilful  physi 
cian  as  yourself — 

MIRSKY.  Come,  come — I'm  not  so  sordid!  A  true 
physician  thinks  first  of  the  professional  obligation. 

D'OR.  But  a  successful  doctor  does  not  give  up  a 
lucrative  practice  in  Buda-Pesth  to  bury  himself  in  the 
mountains  with  a  solitary  patient  unless  the  latter  pays 
handsomely,  eh? 

MIRSKY.  It  is  true  that  you  are  giving  me  many  times 
what  I  could  earn  by  my  practice,  but  why  do  you  con 
stantly  remind  me  of  it  ? 

D'OR.  I  don't  want  to  offend  you,  doctor — but  I  like 
to  feel  that  my  money  is  still  helping  me  to  keep  Death  at 
bay.  I  have  gone  through  life  believing  that  wealth  is 


IV  Monsieur  D'Or  121 

power  and  I  want  to  think  so  yet.  Don't  you  share  that 
belief? 

MIRSKY.  Frankly,  I  do.  I  have  even  coined  a  new 
beatitude — blessed  is  the  rich  man,  since  he  can  have  what 
he  wants ! 

D'OR.  [Gravely.]  Not  always — I  have  found  that 
out.  I  want  health,  vigor,  an  interest  in  life. 

MIRSKY.  Your  money  would  obtain  any  of  these  if 
you  gave  it  a  fair  chance.  You  are  sated,  that  is  all — 

D'OR.  It  is  worse  than  that.  I'm  worn  out — done 
for! 

MIRSKY.  M.  D'Or,  you  are  absolutely  wrong.  I  can 
not  comprehend  your  passive  yielding  to  this  chronic  in- 
validism.  You  harm  not  only  yourself,  but  me  likewise — 
professionally,  I  mean.  I  shall  be  quite  frank  with  you. 
My  reputation  is  at  stake.  All  Buda-Pesth  knows  that 
I  am  treating  the  rich  M.  D'Or.  If  I  restore  you  to 
health,  my  fortune  is  assured!  I  shall  no  longer  be  the 
promising  Dr.  Mirsky  in  his  shabby  carriage — I  shall 
become  the  famous  Dr.  Mirsky  in  his  automobile.  Do 
you  realize  what  it  means  to  me  ? 

D'OR.     So  you  wish  me  to  get  well  for  your  sake? 

MIRSKY.  Certainly,  if  you  have  no  reasons  of  your 
own.  I  pretend  to  no  philanthropy  in  the  matter.  You 
are  paying  me  lavishly,  M.  D'Or — give  me  a  chance  to 
earn  the  money. 

D'OR.  [Shaking  his  head.]  You've  taken  a  bad  case, 
doctor — I'm  sorry  for  you.  You'll  have  your  money  and 
the  automobile  in  any  event.  Of  course,  you  expect  to 
find  greater  happiness  in  becoming  more  prominent  in  your 
profession  ? 


122  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

MIRSKY.  Yes,  both  happiness  and  reputation.  I  look 
upon  it  as  a  recompense  for  my  early  years  of  struggle. 

D'OR.     You  had  to  make  your  own  way? 

MIRSKY.  My  father  was  a  poor  village  shoemaker; 
my  mother  eked  out  his  income  by  what  she  could  earn  at 
washing  and  sewing.  I  was  the  youngest  of  five  children. 

D'OR.     And  the  others? 

MIRSKY.  They  were  all  sacrificed  for  my  sake.  They 
are  hard-working  men  and  women  to-day.  My  parents 
died  before  I  achieved  independence  in  my  profession.  I 
should  like  to  help  my  brothers  and  sisters,  but  they  refuse 
my  aid. 

D'OR.     Perhaps  you  don't  offer  them  enough. 

MIRSKY.  M.  D'Or,  they  have  pride!  They  feel  that 
an  unfair  advantage  was  given  to  me — and  they  are  right ! 

D'OR.  I  fail  to  see  it.  This  was  clearly  a  case  of 
one  rising  from  the  depths,  or  none  at  all.  If  they  have 
pride,  they  should  take  pride  in  you. 

MIRSKY.  It  has  made  a  permanent  breach  between  us, 
I  fear. 

D'OR.  And  they  will  feel  even  more  bitter  when  you 
return  to  Buda-Pesth  and  ride  about  in  your  new  auto 
mobile? 

MIRSKY.  [Gloomily.]  Yes,  I  have  been  thinking  of 
that.  If  I  could  only  drive  them  from  my  mind! 

D'OR.  Yet  you  look  forward  to  happiness!  Is  there 
no  way  of  making  wealth  obedient  to  our  desires? 

CYRIL.  [Putting  in  his  head  at  central  door  as  before.'] 
May  I  bring  in  Mr.  Ramanand? 

D'OR.  Certainly — I  shall  be  glad  to  see  him.  [CYRIL 
throws  the  door  open  and  RAMANAND  enters  in  stately 
fashion,  garbed  in  an  oriental  robe.] 


IV  Monsieur  D'Or  123 

MIRSKY.  Ah!  Ramanand,  quite  dry  now?  I  want 
to  present  you  to  M.  D'OR,  the  tenant  of  this  palace  and 
my  worthy  patron.  He  has  heard  of  our  meeting  on  the 
road. 

RAMANAND.  [With  a  profound  bow,  speaks  in  a  deep, 
rich  voice.']  My  salutations  and  greetings,  monsieur.  I 
am  indebted  to  you  for  your  hospitality. 

D'OR.  Won't  you  be  seated?  [RAMANAND  takes  a 
seat,  right,  CYRIL  sits  on  the  foot  rest.]  I  trust  they  made 
you  comfortable  downstairs.  Didn't  you  suffer  in  the 
storm  ? 

RAMANAND.  A  slight  wetting — no  more.  I  am  ac 
customed  to  rough  weather.  I  travel  constantly  on  foot. 
It  is  no  hardship  for  such  as  I. 

MIRSKY.     Are  you  familiar  with  this  country? 

RAMANAND.  No.  I  am  on  my  way  to  the  West,  to 
study  the  civilization  of  other  lands.  I  have  read  of  them 
and  their  manners;  I  now  seek  to  know  them  by  actual 
experience. 

D'OR.  You  have  doubtless  traveled  far  enough  to  find 
things  different? 

RAMANAND.  Yes,  I  already  feel  the  mark  of  the  West 
in  your  customs.  In  the  East,  all  things  are  deliberate  and, 
whether  right  or  wrong,  rest  upon  traditions  handed  down 
from  the  remotest  ages.  Here  you  strive  for  things  that 
are  new  and  you  are  ever  ready  to  forget  the  old. 

D'OR.  But  why  do  you  follow  such  a  roving  life?  Is 
there  any  profit  in  it?  Will  you  be  better  off  when  you 
have  completed  your  travels  ? 

RAMANAND.  There  is  much  profit  in  it — I  shall  en 
rich  my  mind  with  golden  thought — 


124  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

D'OR.  But  does  it  enrich  your  purse  with  golden  coin 
— that's  more  to  the  point! 

RAMAN  AND.     Money !     It  is  a  delusion ! 

MIRSKY.     A  delusion? 

RAMANAND.  [Placidly.']  Yes.  Has  it  ever  proved 
otherwise  ? 

D'OR.  Why,  it  brings  power,  the  thing  best  worth 
having  in  life. 

RAMANAND.     It  brings  mostly  care  and  sorrow. 

MIRSKY.     Did  you  ever  hear  such  a  philosophy? 

D'OR.  [To  CYRIL.]  Cyril,  you  recall  speaking  to  me 
this  evening  of  a  new  rifle? 

CYRIL.     Yes,  M.  D'Or. 

D'OR.  We  shall  send  to  Buda-Pesth  to-morrow  for 
that  rifle  and  when  it  arrives  it  is  yours. 

CYRIL.  [Leaping  up  in  pleasure  and  kissing  D'OR'S 
hand.~\  Oh!  dear  M.  D'Or,  you  are  like  a  good  magician 
in  the  story-books! 

D'OR.  [To  RAMANAND.]  And  the  agency  of  such 
happiness  as  this  you  call  a  delusion !  Where's  your  care 
and  sorrow? 

RAMANAND.  [Smiling.]  You  are  a  ready  man  with 
your  proof.  No  one  can  deny  the  momentary  exaltation 
that  follows  a  gift  or  a  favor,  nor  do  I  believe  that  grati 
tude  is  a  forgotten  virtue.  But  look  about  you,  and  note 
what  a  curse  wealth  has  brought  upon  humanity. 

MIRSKY.  I  should  not  care  to  entertain  the  philosophy 
of  the  East. 

RAMANAND.  Mine  is  not  the  philosophy  of  the  East. 
We  also  have  the  worship  of  gold  among  us  and  its 


IV  Monsieur  D'Or  125 

devotees  lead  the  same  blind  lives  in  its  pursuit  as  your 
own  people.  The  views  I  express  are  my  own. 

D'OR.  Then  you  really  believe  that  the  poor  man  is 
the  happiest  man? 

RAMANAND.  Yes,  if  he  is  not  possessed  by  the  lust  for 
gold. 

MIRSKY.     And  the  rich  man  is  the  unhappiest  man? 

RAMANAND.     Yes,  if  he  is  the  slave  of  his  own  wealth. 

D'OR.  Rail  against  wealth  if  you  will — I  maintain 
that  poverty  has  nothing  to  recommend  it. 

RAMANAND.  [Reflectively.]  I  too  sought  material 
wealth  as  a  young  man  and  I  gained  nothing  but  care ;  for 
many  years  I  have  cherished  poverty  and  my  days  are 
crowned  with  peace.  I  ask  no  better  test  of  my  philosophy. 

MIRSKY.  If  you  are  satisfied,  you  have  reached  a  state 
of  mind  that  neither  M.  D'Or  nor  I  shall  ever  experience. 
[EDITH  enters,  centre;  MIRSKY  and  RAMANAND  rise.'] 

EDITH.  Pardon  me — I  have  come  to  tell  Cyril  that 
his  father  is  ready  to  take  him  back  to  the  lodge. 

CYRIL.  [Leaping  up  and  running  to  the  window.] 
Oh !  it  is  clearing  up  beautifully — the  moon  will  rise  soon. 
I  suppose  I'll  have  to  go.  [He  shakes  hands.]  Good 
night,  Dr.  Mirsky.  [He  stands  abashed  before  RAMA 
NAND.]  Good  night,  Mr.  Ramanand. 

RAMANAND.  [Stroking  CYRIL'S  hair  as  if  invoking  a 
blessing  on  the  boy.]  Good  night,  Cyril. 

CYRIL.  Good  night,  M.  D'Or.  Shall  I  pray  that  you 
should  get  better? 

D'OR.  [Surprised.]  Should  you  pray — why — yes,  if 
you  care  to. 

CYRIL.     You  won't  forget  about  the  new  rifle? 


126  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

D'OR.     What  has  the  rifle  to  do  with  your  prayer? 

CYRIL.  I  think  I  could  pray  better  if  I  knew  I  was 
sure  to  get  it.  [RAMANAND  shakes  his  head.'] 

D'OR.  Very  well,  Cyril,  just  pray  your  very  best  for 
me.  Good  night. 

CYRIL.  Good  night,  Miss  Packard.  Why  don't  you 
make  M.  D'Or  get  better?  That's  what  nurses  are  for. 

MIRSKY.  The  young  rascal  will  be  censuring  me  next 
for  not  having  M.  D'Or  in  perfect  physical  condition. 
Run  along. 

CYRIL.  [Laughing.]  Good  night,  everybody.  [He 
goes  off  hastily.] 

EDITH.     [To  D'OR.]     It  is  time  for  your  medicine. 

MIRSKY.  One  moment,  Miss  Packard.  We  shall  dis 
continue  that  medicine;  I  am  not  satisfied  with  our  pa 
tient's  response.  We  shall  adopt  a  new  course — no  drugs 
at  all  for  the  next  few  days. 

D'OR.  I  am  heartily  glad  of  it.  I  get  far  more  benefit 
from  your  talk,  doctor,  than  from  your  medicines.  Our 
little  discussion  to-night  has  made  me  forget  myself  for 
the  time.  By  the  way,  let  us  see  how  Miss  Packard  feels 
about  the  matter.  She  will  be  an  unprejudiced  judge. 

MIRSKY.  One  whose  opinion  will  be  worth  having. 
[RAMANAND  bows  politely.] 

D'OR.  We  were  trying  to  decide  among  ourselves 
whether  wealth  is  a  blessing  or  a  curse.  Do  you  believe 
it  brings  power  ? 

EDITH.     Yes,  unquestionably. 

MIRSKY.     Does  it  bring  happiness? 

EDITH.     Certainly.     Why  shouldn't  it  bring  happiness? 

RAMANAND.     Does  it  bring  sorrow  and  misery? 


IV  Monsieur  D'Or  127 

EDITH.    Far  too  often,  I  fear. 

D'OR.  Are  all  three  of  us  right  in  our  contentions? 
Wealth  seems  to  be  rather  fickle,  Miss  Packard,  accord 
ing  to  your  view. 

EDITH.  It  appears  a  very  simple  matter  to  me.  The 
unattainable  always  seems  attractive;  what  we  possess  is 
apt  to  pall  after  a  time.  Wealth  does  not  usually  bring 
power,  nor  happiness,  nor  sorrow  until  its  possessor  has 
taken  some  initiative  in  the  matter.  The  owner  of  the 
wealth  must  in  a  large  measure  determine  its  influence  on 
his  career. 

D'OR.  If  you  possessed  great  wealth,  would  you  test 
its  power  to  secure  for  you  the  things  that  you  might  deem 
most  desirable — social  position,  for  instance? 

EDITH.  I  think  not.  I  should  prefer  to  expend  it  in  a 
quest  of  happiness,  but  it  would  be  a  happiness  that  came 
from  service — from  using  the  wealth  to  bring  sunshine 
and  peace  into  other  lives.  Perhaps  as  a  nurse  I  have 
come  to  think  differently  than  many  other  women — 

MIRSKY.     More  self-sacrificing,  I  am  sure. 

RAMANAND.  Does  Miss  Packard  believe  in  the  phi 
losophy  of  service — that  our  lives  can  be  counted  most 
successful  when  we  make  ourselves  most  useful  to  our 
fellow  men? 

EDITH.  Assuredly.  Service  seems  to  me  the  ideal  of 
a  well-ordered  life.  I  can  imagine  no  finer  life  than  that 
of  my  honored  country-woman,  Miss  Eleanor  Richmond — 

D'OR.     [Springing  upJ]     Eleanor  Richmond ! 

RAMANAND.  A  noble  woman,  indeed,  a  goddess  of 
charity.  I  met  her  in  Bombay  last  year. 


128  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

MIRSKY.  I  have  heard  of  her — she  organized  a  relief 
committee  for  the  India  famine — 

EDITH.  Yes,  and  is  devoted  heart  and  soul  to  the  great 
cause. 

D'OR.  Eleanor  Richmond — in  India!  [To  EDITH.] 
You  know  her? 

EDITH.  Very  well.  I  have  been  with  her  at  different 
times  for  several  years.  I  was  a  member  of  her  party  that 
went  into  the  fever  district. 

D'OR.     She — has  not  married? 

RAMANAND.  Such  a  woman  needs  no  family  of  her 
own.  All  mankind  is  her  family! 

D'OR.  How  strange  that  you  should  know  her.  I 
always  passed  over  the  accounts  of  India  famines  in  the 
papers — such  unpleasant  reading,  such  harrowing  details. 

MIRSKY.  Think  of  the  heroism  of  a  woman  who  will 
plunge  into  the  midst  of  such  misery  and  desolation ! 

RAMANAND.  There  are  parts  of  India  where  Miss 
Richmond  is  worshiped  as  a  saint ! 

EDITH.  She  deserves  it.  I  know  of  no  one  who  has 
made  such  a  splendid  use  of  wealth  as  she  has  done.  She 
has  been  an  inspiration  to  me  at  times  when  I  felt  weak 
and  discouraged.  [Moonlight  shines  in  at  the  window.] 

MIRSKY.  The  moon  has  risen;  what  a  glorious  light 
it  sheds  into  this  room.  We  must  be  going,  M.  D'Or,  if 
we  are  to  reach  the  village  before  midnight.  We  shall 
have  a  well-lighted  road,  at  all  events.  [He  goes  to  the 
window.  D'OR  is  staring  into  space.] 

EDITH.  I  shall  have  the  carriage  sent  around  to  the 
door.  [She  goes  off,  centre] 


IV  Monsieur  D'Or  129 

RAMANAND.  Monsieur,  I  am  deeply  indebted  to  you 
and  to  the  good  doctor  for  the  shelter  you  have  afforded 
me,  and  for  your  tokens  of  good  will. 

D'OR.  [Recovering  himself.]  And  to-morrow  you 
continue  your  westward  march — in  search  of  truth? 

RAMANAND.  In  search  of  truth,  M.  D'Or.  There  is 
the  most  precious  wealth  that  the  earth  affords.  It  will 
be  a  long  and  difficult  quest. 

D'OR.  I  have  been  searching  for  truth  for  many  years 
and  in  many  lands;  to-night  I  believe  I  have  stumbled 
upon  it  by  chance.  A  few  hours  ago  I  was  wondering 
what  new  bribe  I  might  offer  Death  to  postpone  for  a 
time  the  final  settling  of  my  account.  Now  I  yearn  for 
a  chance  to  redeem  my  past  follies,  to  add  a  new  and  more 
creditable  chapter  to  my  career.  You  have  done  me  much 
good  to-night,  doctor!  I  feel  better  and  happier  at  this 
moment  than  I  have  been  for  many  years ! 

MIRSKY.  Not  too  fast!  Don't  be  in  too  much  of  a 
hurry  to  deprive  me  of  so  profitable  a  patient. 

D'OR.  Have  no  fear,  doctor — you  shall  have  no  occa 
sion  to  regret  the  cure  that  you  wrought  here  to-night. 

MIRSKY.  You  are  indeed  a  changed  man — I  am  glad 
to  see  it.  Good  night,  M.  D'Or. 

RAMANAND.  [To  D'OR.]  Good  night,  monsieur. 
[He  bows] 

D'OR.  Good  night!  A  pleasant  ride  back  to  the 
village !  [  They  go  out,  centre.  D'OR  examines  the  wilted 
flowers  and  laughs  softly.  He  then  goes  over  to  the  win 
dow  and  stands  in  the  moonlight.  He  calls  to  the  others 
below.]  Good  night!  Good  night!  [The  sound  of  car- 
9 


130  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

riage  wheels  is  heard.  EDITH  comes  in,  centre,  and  looks 
at  D'OR  a  few  moments  before  speaking.] 

EDITH.    You  may  catch  cold  at  the  window — 

D'OR.  [Turning.]  Miss  Packard!  I  did  not  hear 
you  enter. 

EDITH.     You  are  feeling  much  better? 

D'OR.  I  am  a  new  man  to-night.  Pray  tell  me,  do 
you  know  if  Eleanor  Richmond  is  in  India  now? 

EDITH.  She  is  on  her  way  to  India.  She  wrote  me 
from  London  that  she  would  be  at  Port  Said  in  a  fortnight. 

D'OR.     Port  Said!     You  have  a  letter  from  her? 

EDITH.    Yes.    Do  you  know  her? 

D'OR.  We  were  very  good  friends — many  years  ago, 
over  in  America.  It  seems  so  long  ago — almost  like 
another  existence. 

EDITH.  Would  you  like  to  see  her  letter?  It  tells  of 
her  plans  for  the  coming  year. 

D'OR.    You  are  very  kind — 

EDITH.  I  shall  fetch  the  letter;  I  am  sure  it  will  in 
terest  you.  [She  goes  off,  right.] 

D'OR.  [In  meditation.]  Fifteen  years !  It  seems  like 
a  lifetime!  A  lifetime  of  hideous  nightmare  and  delu 
sion.  Fifteen  years !  [He  paces  the  room.  EDITH  returns.} 

EDITH.     Here  is  Miss  Richmond's  letter. 

D'OR.  [Takes  the  letter  to  the  light  and  tries  to  read. 
His  hand  trembles.  He  speaks  in  an  uncertain  voice.] 
Won't  you  read  it  for  me? 

EDITH.  [Reading.]  '  I  am  now  in  London  with  my 
secretary,  Mr.  Hanson,  making  final  preparations  for 
another  year's  work  in  the  Orient.  Mr.  Hanson's  wife 
and  I  have  been  buying  great  quantities  of  supplies  to  be 


IV  Monsieur  D'Or  131 

shipped  to  the  East.  She  is  a  most  helpful  woman — just 
another  like' — [A  pause.] 

D'OR.     [Softly.']     '  Like  yourself.' 

EDITH.  [Embarrassed,  continues.]  '  From  all  reports 
the  distress  is  even  greater  than  before  and  we  shall  have 
to  labor  harder  than  ever  to  relieve  the  miseries  of  those 
unfortunate  people.  How  my  heart  bleeds  for  them!  I 
have  found  many  good  friends  who  have  contributed  gen 
erously  to  our  fund,  but  the  need  is  so  great  that  we  can 
never  bring  adequate  relief.  We  can  assist  a  little  here 
and  there,  and  instil  new  courage  in  those  who  are  partly 
able  to  help  themselves,  but  there  is  much  that  we  can 
never  hope  to  undertake.  I  wonder  that  I  ever  had  the 
hardihood  to  attempt  this  work.  Now  it  has  become  my 
mission  in  life  and  it  means  everything  to  me.  We  shall 
be  at  Port  Said  on  the  25th,  and  shall  spend  two  or  three 
days  there.  I  wish  you  could  arrange  to  rejoin  me  this 
year.  I  recall  our  days  of  labor  among  the  poor  in  New 
York  and  in  Chicago.  You  were  so  very' — Oh !  M.  D'Or, 
won't  you  read  the  rest? 

D'OR.  [Taking  the  letter.]  Too  modest  to  sound 
your  own  praises?  [He  reads  in  silence]  Very  true, 
Miss  Packard,  what  she  says  of  you  is  indeed  true.  No 
winder  she  wants  you  with  her  again.  [He  reads] 
'  The  work  is  a  consecration — it  has  made  life  very  sweet 
to  me ' — [As  he  goes  on,  EDITH  silently  steals  from  the 
room  by  the  centre  door]  '  What  a  pleasure  it  is  to  bring 
the  light  of  joy  and  gratitude  into  the  eyes  of  others.  In 
my  devotion  to  their  welfare  I  have  tried  to  forget  an 
early  sorrow  of  my  own' —  [He  pauses,  overcome  with 
emotion.  He  looks  up  and  sees  that  he  is  alone.  His 


132  Monsieur  D'Or  SC. 

hand  trembles  as  he  holds  the  letter  near  the  lamp.~]  '  I 
hope  we  may  soon  meet  again — time  alone  can  tell.' 
Time  alone  can  tell!  How  that  phrase  brings  back  that 
last  evening  together  in  the  garden — the  legend  on  the 
sun-dial — 'Time  will  reveal  all  things.5 — [He  rises  and 
stands  by  the  window,  glancing  over  the  letter  in  the 
moonlight.']  '  I  have  tried  to  forget  an  early  sorrow  of 
my  own ' — Tried  to  forget!  Eleanor!  [He  gazes  at  the 
letter  as  the  curtain  slowly  falls.'] 


EPILOG 

[A  parlor  in  the  Hotel  Orient,  Port  Said,  furnished  as 
a  writing-room  for  the  guests.  There  is  at  the  right  a 
table  with  pens,  ink,  magazines,  railway  guides  and  fold 
ers.  At  the  left  a  table  with  writing  materials,  blotters, 
etc.  Each  table  is  flanked  by  two  chairs.  There  are  also 
several  comfortable  armchairs  and  a  revolving  case  with 
time-tables  and  other  hotel  literature.  From  the  room  a 
wide  central  entrance  leads  through  glass  doors  to  a  porch 
with  posted  placards.  There  are  exits  right  and  left  and 
a  window  on  the  left  beside  the  door.  The  sun  shines 
brightly  through  this  window  and  also  illumines  the  pros 
pect  from  the  porch.  As  the  curtain  rises,  MR.  MATHEWS 
enters  at  the  centre  and  casts  a  critical  eye  over  the  room. 
He  puts  the  papers,  etc.,  into  order  at  both  tables  and 
throws  several  soiled  sheets  into  a  wastebasket  under  the 
table  on  the  right.  MR.  HANSON  enters  with  a  large 
bundle  of  letters  and  goes  to  the  opposite  table.'] 

MATHEWS.  Good  morning,  Mr.  Hanson.  I  hope  you 
slept  well. 

HANSON.  Thank  you,  Mr.  Mathews.  My  first  night 
in  Africa  was  one  of  undisturbed  repose.  What  a  lovely 
morning !  Is  such  weather  common  in  Egypt  ? 

MATHEWS.  It  is  during  the  season.  We  often  have 
fine  weather  at  this  time  of  the  year. 

HANSON.     Your  hotel  seems  quite  crowded. 

MATHEWS.     It  filled  up  yesterday  after  the  arrival  of 


134  Monsieur  D'Or  EPI- 

your  steamer.  Most  of  our  guests  are  tourists  who  are  on 
their  way  to  Cairo  and  the  Pyramids. 

HANSON.     Have  you  seen  Miss  Richmond  this  morning  ? 

MATHEWS.  Yes,  she  is  now  at  breakfast.  What  a 
charming  lady  she  is! 

HANSON.  One  of  Heaven's  good  angels,  I  should  say. 
My  wife  and  I  have  been  associated  with  her  for  two 
years  in  her  American  charities  and  in  this  India  relief 
work.  Her  soul  is  wrapped  up  in  it.  You  should  see 
how  people  respond  to  her  appeal  for  aid.  [He  reads  the 
mail  as  he  talks.]  One  contribution  after  another.  Our 
fellow-passengers  on  the  ship  raised  a  fund  of  one  hun 
dred  pounds. 

MATHEWS.  That  reminds  me  to  give  you  this  check 
on  behalf  of  the  management.  [He  takes  a  check  from 
his  wallet]  We  desire  to  show  our  interest  in  the  cause. 

HANSON.  Thank  you  very  much.  I  am  certain  your 
kindness  will  gratify  Miss  Richmond.  [He  reads  a  letter 
with  an  enclosure]  Here's  a  curious  one!  From  the 
English  missionary  at  Kermeh — *  ten  pounds  from  our 
mission  for  the  India  relief  fund.'  Where  is  Kermeh? 

MATHEWS.  It  is  far  up  the  Nile — at  the  Third  Cat 
aract.  That's  the  sort  of  cooperation  that  counts;  it 
shows  that  Miss  Richmond's  noble  work  is  known  in  the 
remotest  regions.  [He  takes  out  his  check  book  and 
writes]  Mr.  Hanson,  I  wish  you  would  add  this  per 
sonal  contribution  to  that  of  the  management.  I  want  to 
help  a  little. 

HANSON.  You  are  indeed  generous.  I  wish  the  world 
could  realize  the  nature  of  the  task  that  Miss  Richmond 
has  undertaken — the  feeding  of  impoverished  thousands 


LOG  Monsieur  D'Or  135 

is  but  a  small  part  of  it.  There  are  schools  and  hospitals 
to  be  provided — an  effort  is  being  made  to  raise  the  whole 
country  to  a  better  standard  of  living.  The  fever  must 
be  stamped  out — [Reads.]  Twenty  pounds — fifty  pounds 
— Heaven  bless  them  all.  [He  takes  up  a  telegram.}  A 
dispatch  from  Paris.  [As  he  reads  it,  the  paper  trembles 
in  his  hand.  He  starts  up  with  a  cry.] 

MATHEWS.     What  is  the  matter? 

HANSON.  [Excitedly.]  The  matter!  It's  too  won 
derful  to  be  true.  I  doubt  whether  I'm  awake!  It  can't 
be  possible — yet  here  it  is,  black  on  white.  It's  like  a 
voice  from  Heaven  answering  Miss  Richmond's  prayer. 
[Hands  over  the  telegram.]  Read  it,  Mr.  Mathews. 

MATHEWS.  [Reads.]  'The  Messrs.  Blaustein  have 
the  honor  to  inform  Miss  Richmond  that  securities  amount 
ing  to  ten  million  pounds' — 

HANSON.  [Wildly.]  It  does  say  ten  million?  I'm 
not  dreaming? 

MATHEWS.  You're  wide  awake — it's  ten  million.  I'm 
not  familiar  with  the  sum,  but  I  know  what  the  figures 
look  like.  [He  resumes  reading.]  '  Securities  amount 
ing  to  ten  million  pounds  have  been  deposited  with  them 
to  form  a  permanent  fund  known  as  the  Eleanor  Rich 
mond  Fund,  the  income  thereof  to  be  expended  in  the 
interests  of  Miss  Richmond's  great  charities  throughout 
the  world.  Provision  is  made  that  one  hundred  thousand 
pounds  shall  be  immediately  available  for  Miss  Rich 
mond's  relief  work  in  India.  The  Messrs.  Blaustein 
regret  that  they  are  not  at  liberty  to  mention  the  name  of 
the  donor,  who  prefers  to  remain  anonymous  because  he 
wishes  only  one  name  to  be  associated  with  the  fund — that 


136  Monsieur  D'Or  EPI- 

of  Miss  Richmond  herself.'  Did  you  ever  hear  anything 
like  that  before  in  your  life,  Mr.  Hanson? 

HANSON.  [Almost  delirious.']  Has  there  ever  been 
anything  like  it  before  ?  It  is  stupendous !  How  can  such 
a  gift  be  kept  secret!  How  can  any  human  being  give 
away  ten  million  pounds  without  public  recognition  ?  Can 
you  realize  what  burdens  it  will  lift  from  Miss  Rich 
mond's  mind?  She  can  now  proceed  safely  with  many 
noble  enterprises  which  she  has  long  hoped  to  carry  out 
when  funds  were  available.  How  she  will  rejoice  at  this 
wonderful  answer  to  her  prayers ! 

MATHEWS.  [Gravely.']  By  the  way,  Mr.  Hanson,  be 
careful  in  giving  her  the  information.  Good  news  may 
cause  as  severe  a  shock  as  bad  news.  Tell  her  gradually — 

HANSON.  You're  right.  It's  a  wonder  it  didn't  knock 
me  over — I  haven't  had  my  breakfast  yet.  I  don't  believe 
a  doctor  would  recommend  hearing  such  news  on  an 
empty  stomach.  [Enter  ROBERT  DORR  at  the  centre.  He 
wears  a  plain  sack  suit  and  no  jewelry  of  any  sort.  He 
seems  alert  and  vigorous.  HANSON  continues  to  read  the 
mailJ] 

DORR.     Good  morning,  Mr.  Mathews. 

MATHEWS.  Good  morning,  Mr.  Dorr.  You  are  an 
early  riser — the  porter  told  me  you  went  out  at  five  o'clock 
for  a  stroll  about  the  harbor. 

DORR.  I  am  enjoying  the  best  of  health.  You  must 
have  observed  the  improvement  in  the  four  days  that  I 
have  been  here.  The  climate  of  Egypt  is  wonderful — 
bracing,  invigorating! 

MATHEWS.  [Drily. ~]  Yes,  just  now — but  wait  till 
next  summer! 


LOG  Monsieur  D'Or  137 

DORR.  I  haven't  time  to  wait.  I'll  take  your  word 
for  it. 

MATHEWS.  By  the  way,  Mr.  Dorr,  you  ought  to  know 
Mr.  Hanson,  secretary  to  Miss  Richmond.  Mr.  Hanson, 
Mr.  Dorr.  You  are  both  Americans — 

DORR.  The  best  of  reasons  for  our  knowing  each  other, 
Mr.  Hanson.  I  have  heard  of  Miss  Richmond's  splendid 
services  for  India.  You  have  doubtless  taken  part  in  that 
work? 

HANSON.  Yes.  Mrs.  Hanson  and  I  have  been  asso 
ciated  with  Miss  Richmond  for  several  years.  It  has 
been  a  pleasure  to  help  even  a  little  in  the  great  cause,  but 
I've  never  been  so  happy  as  this  morning.  What  do  you 
think  has  happened  ? 

DORR.     I'm  sure  I  never  could  guess. 

HANSON.  A  noble  hearted  soul  has  established  a  fund 
of  ten  million  pounds  to  carry  on  Miss  Richmond's  work. 

DORR.    Ten  millions !    Who  is  your  Croesus  ? 

HANSON.  That's  the  most  remarkable  part  of  it.  He 
is  as  modest  as  he  is  magnanimous — he  prefers  to  remain 
unknown. 

DORR.     What  does  Miss  Richmond  say? 

MATHEWS.  She  doesn't  know  it  yet.  The  dispatch 
arrived  from  Paris  this  morning. 

HANSON.  It  will  be  the  happiest  day  of  her  life,  I 
am  sure. 

DORR.     How  long  do  you  remain  at  Port  Said  ? 

HANSON.  Our  steamer  leaves  day  after  to-morrow  at 
ten.  That  reminds  me,  I  must  send  off  a  note  at  once  to 
the  steamship  office.  You  will  pardon  me  ?  [He  goes  to 
the  table,  left,  and  writes.] 


138  Monsieur  D'Or  EPI- 

MATHEWS.  [Beside  the  table.]  Just  look  at  that  mail, 
Mr.  Dorr — contributions  coming  in  from  all  quarters. 
There  are  many  hundred  pounds  in  all,  and  yet  how  small 
that  seems  beside  those  ten  millions!  How  would  you 
like  to  be  able  to  give  such  a  donation? 

DORR.  [  Uncomfortably]  I — I  think  it  would  be  very 
pleasant — I  think  I'd  rather  like  it! 

MATHEWS.  I  should  say  so!  A  man  with  such  gen 
erous  impulses  should  not  hide  his  light — 

DORR.  [Interrupting.']  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Mathews, 
have  you  a  Bradshaw  handy? 

MATHEWS.  [Indicating  to  the  table,  right]  You  will 
find  one  on  that  table.  [He  crosses.]  Here  it  is.  [DoRR 
follows  and  takes  a  seat  with  his  back  to  the  others. 
MATHEWS  turns  to  the  back  as  if  to  go  out  and  meets 
ELEANOR  RICHMOND.  He  comes  front  with  her.  DORR 
pretends  to  be  reading  his  Bradshaw] 

ELEANOR.  Good  morning,  Mr.  Mathews.  It's  a  full 
year  since  I  was  here.  How  have  you  been  ? 

MATHEWS.     Very  well.     I  need  not  ask — 

ELEANOR.  [Smiling]  Always  well  and  busy.  Per 
haps  I  should  say  always  well  because  I'm  busy.  What  a 
lovely  sunny  morning.  You  seem  to  furnish  such  beau 
tiful  weather  whenever  I  come  to  your  hotel. 

MATHEWS.  I  hope  you  will  enjoy  your  stay  here,  Miss 
Richmond. 

ELEANOR.  I  always  do.  I'm  sorry  it  must  be  such  a 
short  stay,  but  you  know — India  is  calling  and  I'm  needed 
there.  [To  HANSON.]  Good  morning,  Hanson — have 
you  breakfasted? 


LOG  Monsieur  D'Or  139 

HANSON.  Not  yet,  Miss  Richmond — I've  been  look 
ing  over  the  mail.  The  fact  is,  I'm  not  at  all  hungry — 

ELEANOR.  You're  not  getting  ill,  I  hope?  You  seem 
strangely  excited  about  something.  Is  the  fever  prevalent 
now,  Mr.  Mathews? 

MATHEWS.  No,  indeed.  I  don't  think  anything  serious 
is  the  matter  with  Mr.  Hanson.  He  is  simply  suffering 
from  a  slight  shock. 

ELEANOR.     A  shock!     Why,  what  has  happened? 

HANSON.  You  see  I  was  reading  the  mail — it's  a 
goodly  batch  of  letters.  Nearly  all  of  them  contain  do 
nations,  both  large  and  small — I  was  simply  overcome  by 
their  generosity.  Here  is  one  from  the  English  mission  at 
Kermeh  in  the  upper  Nile  valley.  Mr.  Mathews  has 
given  me  a  check  on  behalf  of  the  management  of  the 
hotel  and  a  personal  contribution  as  well. 

ELEANOR.  [Gratefully.]  Thank  you  for  your  aid. 
It  is  an  inspiration  to  find  people  everywhere  so  anxious 
to  help!  [She  has  taken  a  seat  at  the  table,  left,  her  back 
to  DORR.  HANSON  is  seated  at  her  side  and  MATHEWS  is 
standing] 

HANSON.  [Slowly  and  seriously]  Miss  Richmond, 
you  know  that  now  and  then  there  is  an  unusually  large 
donation  announced  in  the  mail.  [She  nods  expectantly 
as  she  looks  over  the  letters]  That  happened  this  morn 
ing.  [A  pause]  It  is  the  most  splendid  gift  that  your 
cause  has  ever  received.  [She  drops  the  letters  and  looks 
eagerly  at  HANSON.]  This  is  a  trust  fund,  the  interest 
of  which  is  to  be  applied  to  your  work.  Do  not  be  startled 
at  the  sum — it  is  very  great.  You  remember  last  year  the 
Earl  of  Shropshire  gave — 


140  Monsieur  D'Or  EPI- 

ELEANOR.  Ten  thousand  pounds — a  munificent  sum! 
And  you  say  this  is  even  more  ? 

HANSON.  [Deliberately.]  Conceive  the  Earl  of  Shrop 
shire's  gift  multiplied  ten-fold — a  hundred-fold — a  thou 
sand-fold  ! 

ELEANOR.  [Rising  from  her  seat.]  Hanson,  what  do 
you  mean? 

HANSON.  [Rising.]  Miss  Richmond,  the  amount  is 
ten  million  pounds.  [A  pause.  She  looks  from  HANSON 
to  MATHEWS.  HANSON  gives  her  the  dispatch.  Tense 
silence  as  ELEANOR  reads  it.  DORR  trembles,  but  does  not 
look  around.  The  paper  shakes  in  ELEANOR'S  hand.] 

ELEANOR.  [Faintly.]  Ten  million  pounds — a  perma 
nent  fund — one  hundred  thousand  pounds  immediately 
available!  [She  sinks  into  her  chair.]  Can  this  be  true? 
It  is  like  the  realization  of  a  fairy-dream.  Hanson,  I 
must  know  the  donor  of  this  enormous  fund — 

HANSON.  The  dispatch  says  he  prefers  to  remain 
anonymous. 

ELEANOR.  I  must  know.  His  name  may  be  kept  secret  if 
he  so  desires,  but  I  must  see  that  man  and  thank  him  from 
the  bottom  of  my  heart  for  the  good  that  he  is  doing. 
His  bounty  will  reap  a  perpetual  harvest — he  must  see  for 
himself  what  his  unparalleled  generosity  will  accomplish. 

HANSON.  Shall  I  write  to  the  Blausteins  at  Paris, 
asking  that  the  donor's  name  be  communicated  to  you? 

ELEANOR.  No — I  shall  let  you  have  a  telegram  for 
them.  I  want  to  know  before  I  leave  Port  Said.  What 
a  wonderful  day  this  is!  You  knew  of  it,  Mr.  Mathews? 

MATHEWS.  Mr.  Hanson  told  me  just  before  you  came 
in.  Let  me  say  in  all  sincerity,  it  is  the  kind  of  support 
that  your  noble  work  has  merited  all  along. 


LOG  Monsieur  D'Or  141 

ELEANOR.  It  makes  me  happy  past  all  understanding. 
We  can  achieve  real  results  now — not  temporary  relief, 
but  permanent  progress.  Won't  you  get  your  breakfast, 
Hanson?  I  am  forgetting  all  about  you.  No  wonder 
you  seemed  so  excited.  I  shall  telegraph  to  the  Blausteins 
at  once.  [She  reaches  for  a  telegram  pad  and  writes.] 

HANSON.  Very  well.  [He  gathers  up  the  mail,  leaving 
the  dispatch  from  the  Blausteins  in  ELEANOR'S  posses 
sion.]  Mr.  Mathews,  won't  you  deposit  these  remittances 
in  your  safe  for  the  present?  [DoRR  at  his  table  writes 
out  a  check] 

MATHEWS.  Certainly.  Can  I  be  of  further  service, 
Miss  Richmond? 

ELEANOR.  Not  now,  but  I  shall  call  upon  you  later. 
Let  me  thank  you  once  more  for  your  kindness!  I  must 
get  off  this  dispatch  at  once. 

MATHEWS.  Let  me  know  when  I  can  serve  you  in  any 
way.  [He  goes  off,  centre,  with  HANSON.  ELEANOR, 
when  alone  at  the  table,  reads  the  dispatch  again,  clasps  it 
to  her  breast  and  looks  upward  in  thankfulness.  Trying 
to  compose  her  own  telegram,  she  once  more  reads  the  other 
and  weeps  softly  as  she  does.  DORR  rises  and  turns  towards 
her.  She  is  trying  to  compose  herself  to  write,  but  cannot] 

DORR.  [Advancing]  Pardon  me,  Miss  Richmond — I 
should  like  to  contribute  a  trifle  to  your  fund.  [He 
hands  her  the  check] 

ELEANOR.  How  good  of — [Looks  intently  at  him] 
why — I — [In  a  whisper]  Bobbie  Dorr! 

DORR.     Yes. 

ELEANOR.  Bobbie  Dorr — in  Egypt!  Oh!  what  a 
surprise !  Were  you  sitting  over  there  reading  that  Brad- 
shaw?  I  took  you  for  an  ill-mannered  tourist! 


142  Monsieur  D'Or  EPI- 

DORR.  And  you  recognized  me  at  once — after  fifteen 
years. 

ELEANOR.  Is  it  as  long  as  that?  Then  you  must  not 
mention  the  fact  again.  You've  grown  broader  and  heavier, 
Bobbie — you  look  more  sensible,  too! 

DORR.  And  you're  just  the  same  charming  Eleanor 
that  you  were  in  the  old  Lenox  days. 

ELEANOR.  The  idea  of  your  saying  such  a  thing!  I 
just  remarked  that  you  seemed  more  sensible — now  I  am 
inclined  to  doubt  it.  What  have  you  been  doing  all  these 
years  ? 

DORR.  Wandering  over  the  face  of  Europe  and  learn 
ing  many  things.  I  fear  you  have  never  forgiven  me  for 
the  unceremonious  way  I  cleared  out  after  that  dance  of 
Aunt  Martha's.  I  sailed  from  New  York  a  few  hours 
after  that — that  last  evening  we  spent  together. 

ELEANOR.  I  have  never  forgotten  that  evening,  Bobbie. 
You  seemed  like  a  man  possessed  of  some  evil  spirit.  You 
remember  how  you  raved  about  the  power  of  wealth — 

DORR.  I  meant  it  then.  My  money  is  practically  all 
gone  now. 

ELEANOR.  You  have  run  through  that  great  fortune 
of  your  grandfather's?  You  have  spent  it  all? 

DORR.  All  but  a  very  little — I  couldn't  give  you  much 
of  a  contribution — 

ELEANOR.  [Looking  at  the  check.']  How  thoughtless 
of  me!  Here  I  have  been  holding  your  check  all  this 
time  without  even  glancing  at  it.  One  thousand  pounds ! 
Generous  as  ever,  Bobbie! 

DORR.     I'm  sorry  it  isn't  more — 


LOG  Monsieur  D'Or  143 

ELEANOR.  [Examining  the  signature.]  What's  this? 
What  a  strange  way  of  spelling  your  name! 

DORR.  I've  been  known  as  M.  D'Or  ever  since  I  left 
America — it  was  simply  a  fancy  of  mine.  Now  that  I'm 
through  with  my  money,  I  shall  be  plain  Bobbie  Dorr 
hereafter. 

ELEANOR.  It  certainly  sounds  better,  Bobbie — more 
like  old  times.  Do  you  know,  I  always  felt  that  we 
should  meet  again  and  that  you  would  tell  me  truly 
whether  or  not  wealth  can  buy  power — 

DORR.  It  cannot,  Eleanor,  I  admit  that.  I  spent  my 
money  foolishly  for  the  most  part — that  is,  until  recently, 
when  I  acquired  more  common  sense — but  I'm  glad  I'm 
done  with  it.  Now  I'm  going  to  ask  you  a  favor. 

ELEANOR.     What  is  it,  Bobbie? 

DORR.     Won't  you  take  me  along  to  India? 

ELEANOR.  Take  you  along  to  India !  Why,  this  is  no 
pleasure  excursion.  It  means  work — the  hardest  kind  of 
work. 

DORR.  [Dejectedly.']  I  know  I  don't  amount  to  much, 
but  I  thought  I  might  serve  as  a  second  or  third  assistant 
secretary.  [Brightening.]  I  was  watching  your  secre 
tary  this  morning.  When  the  mail  comes  in  I  might  open 
the  envelopes  and  hand  them  over  to  Mr.  Hanson. 

ELEANOR.     And  what  then? 

DORR.  Well,  I  suppose  I'd  have  to  look  out  of  the 
window  until  the  next  mail  arrived.  But,  Eleanor,  I'm 
serious  about  this — I'm  no  longer  the  frivolous  youngster 
I  was  at  Lenox. 

ELEANOR.  We've  both  seen  a  good  bit  of  life  since 
then,  Bobbie.  I  became  interested  in  charitable  work,  and 


144  Monsieur  D'Or  EPI- 

my  labors  at  home  and  in  India  have  been  crowned  with 
great  success.  Did  you  hear  us  speak  before  of  the  won 
derful  good  fortune  that  has  just  befallen  us — the  income 
of  ten  million  pounds  to  be  annually  devoted  to  our  cause  ? 
Isn't  it  marvelous!  I  was  just  about  to  write  in  order  to 
learn  the  name  of  the  donor. 

DORR.  I  shouldn't  ask  the  Blausteins  about  him — they 
won't  tell  you  anyway. 

ELEANOR.  How  did  you  know  it  was  the  Blausteins? 
I  didn't  mention  their  name. 

DORR.  Why,  I — that  is,  Mr.  Hanson  happened  to 
mention  it  to  Mr.  Mathews  before  you  came  i.n. 

ELEANOR.  And  knowing  that,  you  were  willing  to  sit 
there  in  that  cold-blooded  manner  reading  your  Bradshaw? 

DORR.  I  didn't  want  to  take  you  by  surprise.  I  wanted 
to  give  you  a  chance  to  hear  what  Mr.  Hanson  had  to 
say  before  I  forced  my  unworthy  self  on  your  attention. 

ELEANOR.  What  Mr.  Hanson  had  to  say?  It  seems 
to  me  that  you  show  very  little  enthusiasm  over  this  won 
derful  endowment.  I  must  discover  the  donor;  won't 
you  help  me? 

DORR.  I  don't  see  why  you  bother  about  him.  He's 
probably  some  eccentric  old  fellow — he  must  be  a  queer 
chap  to  turn  over  such  a  sum  to  a  Board  of  Trustees — 

ELEANOR.  Board  of  Trustees — [Reading  the  dispatch.] 
The  dispatch  says  nothing  about  a  Board  of  Trustees! 

DORR.  Doesn't  it?  Well,  you  see,  they  usually  do 
such  things  in  that  way.  I  inferred  from  what  Mr. 
Hanson  said  to  Mr.  Mathews — 

ELEANOR.  [Alert.]  Bother  Mr.  Hanson  and  Mr. 
Mathews.  [Coming  closer.]  Bobbie  Dorr,  tell  me  the 


LOG  Monsieur  D'Or  145 

truth.     You  left  us  fifteen  years  ago  to  prove  that  wealth 
was  power. 

DORR.  I  know  I  made  myself  ridiculous.  I  believed 
then  that  humanity  could  be  bought  and  sold  like  mer 
chandise  over  a  counter.  For  a  time  I  succeeded  after  a 
fashion.  I  know  better  now.  I  confess  my  defeat. 

ELEANOR.  [Watching  him.]  What  did  you  do  with 
that  large  fortune,  Bobbie? 

DORR.  [Evasively. .]  It's  all  gone — no  use  crying  over 
spilled  milk.  I'm  rather  poor  now,  and  glad  of  it.  There's 
just  enough  left  to  provide  for  my  wants.  All  the  rest 
is  gone.  Why  do  you  look  at  me  so  strangely?  It's  all 
spent— that  is,  I  got  rid  of  it— I  had  no  further  use  for 
it — I — gave  it  away — I — 

ELEANOR.     Bobbie!     It  was  you!! 

DORR.  Eleanor,  a  few  moments  ago  you  remarked  to 
Mr.  Hanson  that  you  wanted  the  donor  of  that  fund  to 
see  what  good  it  would  accomplish.  Now  I — I'm  willing 
to  confess — provided  you  take  me  along  to  India. 

ELEANOR.  You  have  triumphed,  after  all!  Wealth 
is  power! 

DORR.  Only  when  such  a  noble  soul  as  yours  dispenses 
it.  [He  takes  her  hand.]  Give  me  a  chance,  Eleanor! 
May  I  go  along  to  India? 

ELEANOR.  Yes.  [She  picks  up  her  half -finished  dispatch 
to  the  Blausteins  and  smilingly  they  look  at  it  as  the  cur 
tain  falls.] 


Early  Reviews  of 
English  Poets 

EDITED  WITH   AN   INTRODUCTION 
BY 

JOHN  LOUIS  HANEY,  Ph.D. 


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"  Dr.  John  Louis  Haney  has  performed  a  task  of  considerable  usefulness  to  stu 
dents  of  literary  history.  .  .  .  The  introduction  is  a  valuable  sketch  of  English  peri 
odical  literature,  bringing  together  many  facts  for  which  we  should  hardly  know 
where  else  to  look." — The  Dial. 

"An  entertaining  book,  .  .  .  Mr.  Haney's  book  needs  neither  excuse  nor  ex 
planation  ;  it  is  surprising  that  such  a  book  has  not  been  written  long  ago.  .  .  . 
Until  the  appearance  of  Mr.  Haney's  book  the  general  conception  of  early  British 
criticism  was  a  vague,  formless  thing.  .  .  .  It  is  an  amusing  and  certainly  an  edifying 
book." — JOHN  R.  YOUNG  in  Chicago  Evening  Post. 

"  An  interesting  and  serviceable  survey  of  the  history  of  English  criticism.  .  .  . 
A  valuable  and  entertaining  collection." — DR.  RICHARD  GARNETT  in  The  Speaker. 


THE   EGERTON  PRESS 

934  NORTH  ELEVENTH  STREET        PHILADELPHIA 


A  BIBLIOGRAPHY 


OF 


Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge 


BY 


JOHN   LOUIS   HANEY,  Ph.D. 


This  important  bibliography  was  issued  in  an  edition  limited  to 
three  hundred  numbered  copies,  printed  from  type  and  bound  in  boards 
with  paper  labels  ;  also,  a  large  paper  (quarto)  edition  of  thirty  copies, 
numbered  and  signed,  with  frontispiece  on  Japan  paper.  It  enumerates 
all  editions  of  Coleridge's  works  ;  his  contributions  to  other  works  and 
periodicals  ;  biographies,  and  editions  of  his  letters  ;  critical  articles, 
poetical  tributes,  portraits,  etc. 

Regular  edition  (300  copies),  $4.00  net,  postpaid 
Large  paper  edition  (30  copies),  $10.00  net,  postpaid. 


"  The  importance  pf^Mr.  Haney's  book  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  under 
the  heading  '  Marginalia  '  no  fewer  than  three  hundred  and  forty-one  items  are  col 
lected,  as  against  the  seventy  odd  titles  enumerated  under  that  heading  in  the  British 
Museum  Catalogue— the  only  other  list  of  marginalia  extant.  The  compiler  has  aimed 
at  producing  a  practical  handbook  for  the  literary  worker.  ...  In  Mr.  Haney's  work 
we  recognize  a  worthy  attempt  to  grapple  with  a  laborious  and  somewhat  intricate 
task,  which  has  never  yet  been  seriously  taken  in  hand  on  this  side  of  the  water." 

—  The  Athentzum. 

"We  do  not  remember  a  more  comprehensive  individual  bibliography.  .  .  .  The 
items  are  fully  and  systematically  recorded  and  described.  The  notes  are  valuable, 
giving  the  contents  of  collected  works,  facts  concerning  publication,  and  many  exact 
references  to  contemporary  reviews  and  criticisms  of  the  newly  issued  works. 
This  makes  the  list  of  special  use  to  students.  ...  If  more  of  Coleridge's  valuable 
criticisms  can  be  rescued  from  their  penciled  desuetude  for  publication,  Mr.  Haney 
will  have  performed  a  double  service  by  his  painstaking  and  very  excellent  work." 

—  The  Literary  Collector. 

"  II  n'y  a  que  des  eloges  a  donner  a  la  Bibliographic  de  Coleridge  publiee  par 
M.  Haney.  Ce  volume  de  luxe  deviendra  indispensable  a  tous  ceux  qui  voudront 
etudier  de  pres  Coleridge."— Revue  Germanique. 


THE   EGERTON   PRESS 

934  NORTH  ELEVENTH  STREET         PHILADELPHIA 


THE  NAME  OF 

William  Shakespeare 

A  STUDY  IN  ORTHOGRAPHY 

BY 

JOHN    LOUIS  HANEY,  Ph.D. 


This  extensive  study  deals  with  the  origin,  history  and  orthography 
of  the  name  Shakespeare  and  discusses  the  merits  of  the  variant  spell 
ings.  It  has  received  the  cordial  endorsement  of  the  leading  students 
of  Shakespeare  in  England  and  America. 

Seven  hundred  and  fifty  numbered  copies,  printed  from  type  and 
bound  in  blue-ribbed  cloth,  stamped  in  gold. 

$1.00  net.      (Postage  6  cents.) 


"  Accept  my  hearty  thanks  for  your  book  on  The  Name  of  William  Shakespeare, 
which  I  have  read  with  much  interest  and  edification.  It  is  complete  and  exhaustive, 
and  ought  to  be  '  the  final  word '  on  the  subject — Your  book  ought  to  go  into  all  the 
college  and  other  leading  libraries,  and  into  the  hands  of  all  critical  students  of 
Shakespeare.  I  should  doubt  whether  your  limited  edition  would  supply  the  natural 
demand  for  it." — DR.  WILLIAM  J.  ROLFE. 

"A  fair,  complete  and  clear  exposition  of  the  subject.  So  far  as  we  have  ob 
served,  it  takes  account  of  every  scrap  of  evidence  available — Externally,  the  volume 
is  a  model  of  good  taste  ;  type,  page  and  binding  are  alike  excellent.  We  regret  that 
the  edition  should  have  been  limited  to  seven  hundred  and  fifty  copies." 

—  The  Nation. 


THE   EGERTON   PRESS 

934  NORTH  ELEVENTH  STREET         PHILADELPHIA 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 


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